A Seed of Hope
by BlueVanilla79
Summary: When Berry Bitty City suffers from a severe drought, the lives of Strawberry Shortcake and her friends are placed in grave danger. However, there is one cure that will repair the quaint town, but they must move to Berry Big City to try to obtain it from Princess Berrykin's long lost sister. With this new strict ruler on their tracks, will the girls' efforts prove to be ineffective?
1. The Drought

**Author's Note: Hello, readers, welcome to the first installment of my new Strawberry Shortcake fan fiction series. ****Before you ****begin reading, I ****would ****like ****to clarify a few ****things.**

**1\. Disclaimer: I do not own the Strawberry Shortcake franchise. All rights go to their respectful owners.**

**2\. This story takes place in the present version of Strawberry Shortcake, but instead, she and her friends are young adults.**

**3\. I decided to make Princess Berrykin a human instead of a Berrykin simply because the story works out better that way. After all, she _was_ a ****human ****i****n the original ****1980s series.**

**4\. This story is rated "Teen" due to some violence, but aside from that, there is not any inappropriate content in the ****story.**

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She rolled over in the soft green grass, the loose bits of sediment slipping between her toes. The cool breeze whispered in her ear and ruffled the locks in her long red hair. Flowers of every color decorated the open field with their array of hues, and large oak trees overhung the area, casting a great shadow before her. In front of her were her friends, who were taking in every bit of sunshine, filling her ears with their familiar laughter. She could tell they were content with life, and as was she; she was at peace, even. Life was sweet in Berry Bitty City, there was no doubt. Each day was unique in its own way with its own set of adventures. But that seemed a lifetime ago.

Strawberry Shortcake awoke only to find herself in her own bed. She squinted against the golden sunlight streaming through her curtains and scratched at her scalp. It had only been a dream, just a mere fantasy. She hated herself for falling for this trick again, for she awoke from this same dream every morning since the tragedy.

Berry Bitty City wasn't a land flowing with fresh water and honey-at least not anymore. In fact, most of the town had decayed and rotted, and not a single drop of water sprinkled the soil in two months. Because it was the middle of summer, the sweltering heat made for uncomfortable working conditions for the Berrykins, so Strawberry and her friends had to help them at the Berry Works everyday to complete the required tasks. Resources were scarce, so the town had to make do with the few resources that it had left. With the growing problems in Berry Bitty City, life there became nearly unbearable.

Strawberry slipped from beneath her bed covers, planting her two bare feet against the cool wooden floor. She walked towards her window and drew back the curtains, and fear sent a chill up the back of her spine.

The town was in an even worse state than it had been the day before: nearly the entire berry patch was a crispy brown and shriveling to pieces. The remaining life in the berries was gone; they crinkled from their lack of nourishment and fell off their stems to their death. A piece broke from Strawberry's heart whenever another berry lost its life: no berries meant no food, and if she and the others continued to live in these unfit conditions, they wouldn't be alive much longer themselves. On the other hand, the Berrykins were doing their best to harvest the remaining glimmerberries, but even those were becoming scarce. The juice in glimmerberries provided electricity for the whole town, so if they were to become extinct in their area, there would be no use in trying to save Berry Bitty City: no food, no water, and no power basically made for a dead town. Strawberry, her friends, and all of the other citizens would have to abandon it and look elsewhere to live.

Strawberry tried to pry the horrifying thoughts from her mind and stepped away from the window, remembering to draw the curtains first. Leaving them open only reminded her of the tragedies that plagued the town.

She completed her daily morning tasks before heading downstairs. When she reached the bottom step to her café, Custard and Pupcake bolted towards her, both of them whimpering.

"Aw, are you guys hungry? I'm sorry, I must have slept in longer than I'd intended. Here, let me make you some breakfast."

Custard and Pupcake eagerly followed their owner as she made her way to the cabinets. Strawberry opened one of the cupboards only to find one can of dog food and one can of cat food sitting amongst cobwebs.

"Well... it looks like we're almost out of food. I'll have to buy some more from Orange Blossom later today."

Strawberry removed the cans from the space, popped them open, and placed them on the floor for her pets. The puppy and kitty were hesitant before they decided to eat their meals.

Once they were settled, Strawberry was on the hunt for her own breakfast. The refrigerator was empty except for a drop of expired milk and a single egg that mocked her when she opened its carton. The loaf of bread that she tried to preserve from last week was molding in its pack on the corner of the counter.

Strawberry sighed to herself. Since the devastating drought hit Berry Bitty City, the town began to suffer economically as well. Although it was tourist season, tourists often avoided the town because of its unbecoming appearance. As a result, business became slow, and Strawberry and her friends started to experience a lack of income. The effects of the drought were so harsh that most days they didn't know from where their next meal was coming. They tried to limit the amount of items they purchased from one another in an attempt to save their money- however, their plan was hardly effective.

With resignation, Strawberry decided to skip breakfast for the third time that week. Even though her stomach objected, she tried to swallow the pang of hunger down as best she could, but she knew that nothing would suppress it more than a meal.

She exited her café and entered the afflicted town. When she checked her mailbox, she found yet another bill inside that charged an outrageous amount of money. Strawberry knew that Princess Berrykin was charging an excessive amount of cash for the benefit of the town, but she hoped that the princess would realize that her plan was hurting the town more than it was helping it.

Seeing that the clock was striking nine, she shoved the envelope back into her mailbox and hastily ran to the Berry Works.

Every weekday at nine o'clock, Strawberry and her friends were required to help the berrykins search for another source of water. Strawberry had heard another rumor that the berrykins were also searching for a fabled Preservation Soil, but considering that a soil that can repair the damages of dead plant life sounded highly unrealistic, she decided to not put her faith in something that probably didn't exist.

As she neared the entrance of the Berry Works, she saw that her friends were already there, toiling the cracked dirt with their tarnished shovels and wiping the sweat off their brows in the process. Immediately, she felt guilty because she always found herself arriving to work late while they were already slaving away.

"Good morning, everyone."

"Good morning," her friends called unanimously, continuing to dig the soil.

A distraught Princess Berrykin approached the girls: the usually vibrant tint of green in her wide eyes appeared abnormally grayed today. She looked unusually tired, as if she hadn't slept for nights, and seemed to stare into space.

"Princess, I apologize for being tardy...again. I can't seem to keep myself from over-sleeping these days," Strawberry explained as she picked up her shovel.

"I can't seem to get any sleep at all lately." Princess Berrykin gripped her scepter with both hands before adding, "Berrykin Phil didn't make it last night."

In horror, the girls spun around to face her. "_What_?"

"It's the drought - the heat is making the berrykins dehydrated, and if we don't find another source of water soon, I'm afraid the same will happen to you girls."

Though they didn't want to admit it, they knew that what the princess said was true. While they were able to endure the sweltering heat longer than the berrykins, the near one hundred degree temperatures still posed as a threat to their lives, especially since they were working eight to ten hours a day with hardly any shade. For the past few days, Raspberry Torte had complained of feeling light-headed, and Blueberry Muffin easily suffered from heat exhaustion due to her pale complexion. Strawberry was afraid that if she and her friends continued to work in these dangerous conditions, they would eventually end up like Berrykin Phil - dead.

"There is not much more that we can do," the princess continued. "If we are going to make it out of this alive, we need to start searching for a new home as soon as possible. The longer we stay here, the more susceptible we are to danger."

Strawberry opened her mouth to protest but decided against it, for she knew that Princess Berrykin was indeed correct. If the berry patch surrounding Berry Bitty City were to completely die out and collapse, they would be in plain sight for the world to see. Worse, if an intruder were to enter the town, he or she could potentially destroy the town and everyone living in it, and that was not something that they wanted to risk. Strawberry had heard reports of close calls of these individuals being around Acorn Acres, but fortunately they were only children. Generally, though, these people were dangerous.

"I understand why you're concerned, Princess, but we can't just give up. We've lived in Berry Bitty City for far too long for it to come to this," Strawberry finally said.

When the other girls remained silent, Lemon Meringue added, "I agree with Strawberry: we can't give up on saving our home. What if we use the extra juice to call Cherry and see if she can help?"

"We probably shouldn't. You know she's on tour now, and we shouldn't make her cancel the rest of it just to help us dig holes in the ground. Besides, we can't afford to waste any electricity for her to just turn us down. But I think Huck might be able to help; I know that it'll require the same amount of power to call him, but at least he'll most likely be able to come," Blueberry commented.

"Figures that you would suggest we contact him instead of Cherry if we were given one precious phone call." Orange Blossom thrust her shovel into the earth with such ferocity that Strawberry nearly jumped.

"I'm trying to be _reasonable_, for your information," Blueberry snapped back.

Cherry Jam and Huckleberry Pie were close friends of Strawberry and the others, but they often remained distant due to their busy schedules. Cherry was a famous pop singer, one of the most sought-after celebrities in the bitty world. When she met Strawberry and her friends five years back, she instantly felt welcomed by them and the rest of the citizens residing in Berry Bitty City and had taken it upon herself to take a break from the lime light to spend time with them. Recently, though, she was called back to the big city to expand her career by going on a world tour. She had left Berry Bitty City at the beginning of the year, just months before the depressing drought occurred, and that was the last the girls had seen of her.

On the other hand, Huckleberry Pie lived in the big city as well, but he ran a pet shelter. Initially intended to be solely a dog shelter, _Huck's Home for __Homeless Pets _began to accommodate other species of animals when Berry Big City reached a record high of the area that was the most-populated with stray animals wandering the streets. At first the girls had to get used to him considering that he was the only guy in Berry Bitty City, but once they got to know him, he became one of their closest friends. He identified the most with Blueberry, and over the years the two of them had developed such a close friendship that they were practically inseparable. Whenever he had to return to his job in Berry Big City, they would conduct daily video chats with one another online. However, like Cherry, the girls hadn't seen him in the two months following the tragedy.

"I don't think calling Cherry or Huck here will make a bit of difference. I mean, who are we kidding? We've dug for weeks and we still haven't found anything. So having two more pairs of hands will magically find us another source of water?" Plum heaped a large mound of dirt onto a pile and wiped her sticky forehead.

"She has a point: is it even worth it? I mean, if we were going to find something we would have found it by now," Orange inquired.

"The best thing to do is to stay optimistic. We don't want to ruin our chances of finding a remedy for the town by having a negative outlook on the situation," Strawberry said as she stuck her shovel into the thick, cracked dirt.

"But I'm tired of doing this; I feel like we could be doing something worthwhile with our lives instead of just putting holes in the ground. Do you know how much I long to teach another dance class?"

"Yes, just as much as I long to start baking again, but I'm sure this will be worth it in the end. Raspberry, are you okay?"

Since the start of the conversation, Raspberry Torte had abandoned her position and had begun to lean against one of the dead berry stalks. She appeared a sickly yellow and pressed a hand against her forehead.

"Oh, yes, I'm fine. I'm just having another dizzy spell."

Plum tossed her shovel onto the ground. "This isn't worth it; we're practically making ourselves sick from working so hard."

Strawberry noticed that Plum had become very irritable since the six of them started working at the Berry Works and pondered on whether or not if it was another symptom of heat exhaustion. The way that she crinkled her eyebrows and how she angrily handled her shovel were foreign to her usually jocose personality.

"But we can't let down the princess," Strawberry whispered, her voice growing harsh.

"No, Strawberry, she is right: I _have_ been working you all too hard. If we have not found another source of water by now, we most likely never will," Princess Berrykin inserted.

"You girls can take the rest of the day off. We are finished digging holes for now."

Strawberry stared at her in disbelief. "But...are you sure?"

"Yes; it is high time that we move to Plan B. Meet me in my office tomorrow morning at seven o'clock sharp, and _do not _be late." Princess Berrykin spun on her heel and walked away before the girls could ask her any further questions.

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As night approached the quaint town of Berry Bitty City and darkness began to engulf its entirety, the girls decided to meet at Strawberry's marketplace for dinner. On most evenings during the past two months, dinner for the girls composed of whatever they could salvage from their refrigerators, and since Strawberry didn't have any food besides a few slices of moldy bread, she refrained from offering her friends anything to eat.

"So why do you think the princess wants us to meet her in her office tomorrow morning?" Blueberry asked as she unwrapped the clear packaging of her stale corn muffin.

"You don't think she's considering selling the town, do you?" Lemon cupped her hands over her eyes.

Orange leaned forward and placed her half-empty glass on the table. "Not with the state that this place is in. She's probably just going to strategize another plan to look for more resources. What do you think, Strawberry?"

"I honestly don't know what to expect. She could be planning to take down what's left of the town and start over, or she could be considering to sell it, like Lemon suggested."

The girls sat in silence a few moments longer before Raspberry added, "Well, I hope they have a funeral for poor Berrykin Phil. He didn't deserve to die."

For the rest of their time together, neither one of the girls spoke another word. Instead, they only sat and nibbled on what was left of their "meal" and passively thought of the day's events.

The night grew darker still, and before they realized the hour, the town's clock struck eight, which meant that the berrykins were about to cut off the electricity. They did so every night to conserve what little power Berry Bitty City had left, and when they did, everyone was required to go to the safety of their homes to keep away from whatever might be lurking in the shadows. One by one the lights shut off, and everything around the girls became pitch black except for the slight glow coming from the crescent moon.

In a panic, the girls jumped from their seats.

"Goodness, I didn't realize it was this late." Strawberry started gathering the glass plates off the table, nearly dropping them in the process.

"I should really be heading home now, so I'll see you tomorrow. 'Bye, y'all!" Plum turned around the corner, running towards the direction of her dance studio.

Within seconds, the rest of Strawberry's friends had disappeared before she even finished gathering her dishes. She went to the upstairs apartment in her marketplace and let her glass plates slip from her hands and crash onto the wooden floor, not caring that they broke as they smashed against the ground. She collapsed to her knees beneath the skylight; hot tears welled up in her eyes, which she tried to suppress but couldn't hold back. As she fought to keep them down, they only seemed to rise higher until at last they began to roll down her warm cheeks. She cried out in despair: never had she felt so frustrated, so alone. So _helpless_.

She felt her life falling apart piece by piece, and the more it crumbled, the worse she felt. Her home was in ruins, and there was nothing she could do to fix it, no matter how hard she tried. She and her friends were slowly becoming ill and malnourished, and with their condition, it was only a matter of time before they were in Berrykin Phil's state. Plus, she and her friends were nearly penniless, so even if they did find a remedy for their lost cause, they probably wouldn't have been able to afford it.

Worst of all, because she didn't have any family, Strawberry felt that she didn't have anyone to complain to about her problems. She never knew who her parents were or what had happened to them, and in addition, she'd never heard of her having any aunts, uncles, cousins, or grandparents. Day and night, she constantly wondered about her mother and father's whereabouts and had gone as far as questioning her own existence, but she could never find a sufficient, plausible answer to her question. Although her friends were like family to her, she could never convince herself to go to them for help: she knew that they had always depended on her, and if she suddenly came to them with her problems, she was afraid that they would lose the little remainder of hope that they had left. With her strong asset of tenacity, they always looked to her as their source of assurance during stressful situations. But if they knew that she secretly had less hope than they had concerning the situation with the drought, she was afraid that their lives would become truly chaotic.

Strawberry threw the broken pieces of glass against the blackness of the walls, the shards cutting the palms of her hands in the process. Small drops of blood oozed out the slits they had created, but she didn't care. She fell onto her bed into the solitude of night, hoping that the day ahead would be brighter than the last.

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**I'll post more chapters soon if I receive positive feedback on my story. If you want to read more of this series, please let me know - it encourages me **

**to keep ****writing it. Anyway, I hope you liked the first chapter! ~Bluevanilla79**


	2. Plan B

_The sun kissed her face as she danced under the golden leaves overhanging __the meadow..._

Strawberry awoke with a jolt, placing her hand to her forehead and discovering that she'd broken into a cold sweat.

"Goodness!" she hissed under her breath.

These fantasy dreams she awoke from every morning seemed to have a negative effect upon her as if they were nightmares. They infuriated her because they made telling a dream from reality very difficult for her, and so she preferred to keep them buried in the back of her mind.

Strawberry removed her hand from her sweat-slicken forehead, noticing the puffy scars from the shards the night before. She sighed to herself and now regretted breaking her favorite dishes. She lowered her palm to her lap, gaping at the chaos that had once been her bedroom. As she recalled from the previous night, the last remnants of her plates were strewn across the floor; however, in addition to that, her once beautiful lilac curtains were now haphazardly strung on their rods, and a thick layer of dust coated every piece of furniture she owned.

_How long has it been since I've slept in here_? Strawberry pondered, and she stretched and slowly climbed out of her bed. She glanced at the pear-shaped clock on her wall. Its vine-shaped hands read that the time was seven-fifteen - she was supposed to meet the princess in her office at seven o'clock.

"Oh muffin crumbs, I'm late for Princess Berrykin's meeting!"

With a giant leap, Strawberry ran to her dresser and hurriedly threw on a fresh t-shirt and a pair of sweat pants. She tied her ruby hair into a messy ponytail and bolted towards the door, nearly stumbling in the process. Nearing the Berry Works, she could see the distant image of her friends growing closer as she approached them, noting that they sat on pedestals outlining the princess' gate with a sign of irritability written upon their faces. When Strawberry got a closer look at them, they appeared disgruntled and tired, and most of the girls seemed to be in the same state as she, with their hair sloppily pulled out of their faces and dark circles lining the area beneath their eyes.

Strawberry stopped to catch her breath. "I'm so sorry that I'm late. What time is it?"

"Seven-thirty. It's _seven-thirty_, Strawberry. We were supposed to start the meeting half an hour ago," Blueberry crankily snapped.

"I know, and again I apologize, but-"

"Try telling that to the princess. When she saw that you weren't here, she was pretty ticked off," Orange added.

Strawberry sheepishly held down her head, intertwining her fingers through the curlicue design of the gate. The gate rusted from old age, the strawberry-shaped centerpiece being nothing more than a tarnished emblem. Over time, weeds sprung from the ground and looped themselves through the crevices of the design.

"So... if she was that angry about my absence, why didn't she start the meeting without me?" she finally asked.

"No one knows; for some reason, she refused to let any of us in until you arrived."

Just then, the creaky doors of the gate departed, and Princess Berrykin emerged from behind them with a sense of urgency about her. She gripped her scepter tighter than usual, and to the girls' surprise, her once neat curly hair was now a matted mess.

"Girls, come in - quickly now!" Without offering any time for questioning, she slipped back into the entrance expecting Strawberry and the others to follow her.

The doors swung behind them, and the girls were led along a narrow dirt path surrounded by various rose bushes, most of which managed to still contain fairly healthy flowers despite the drought, and eventually they approached a gazebo that lay ahead of them. Grand cedar trees branched over the area, offering a relief from the sweltering heat that interfered with the rest of Berry Bitty City. Likewise, the air was perfumed with the fresh scent of honeysuckles, contrary to the spoiled food-smelling odor that filtered through the rest of the town. Strawberry took in the somewhat breathtaking view, noting that this was the first time she'd seen a flourishing garden in a month and a half. However, even these plants were beginning to suffer from the immense heat, as she could tell from the wilting rosebuds.

"Take a seat, please," the princess ordered, sitting in the chair behind her extravagant leaf desk. The girls obeyed, and when she noticed them eyeing the various folders and documents she had neatly stacked in a pile, she added, "I assume you're all wondering why I've called you here."

Strawberry exchanged looks with the others. "Uh, yes, your highness, I suppose that's about correct."

Princess Berrykin shuffled through her papers. "As you girls should recall from yesterday, I told you that we would move to Plan B."

The girls gulped when the princess didn't say anything else. She seemed to let the thought of anticipating what she was going to say next marinate in their minds.

Finally, Lemon asked, "So...what _is_ Plan B?"

Princess Berrykin spread her papers before her, checking to make sure they were all there. "I'm sending you girls to live in Berry Big City," she replied.

The girls stared at her in disbelief with their eyes bugged and their mouths agape. _Move_ to Berry Big City? Nonsense! In contrast to Berry Bitty City, which was the smallest community in existence, Berry Big City was the largest city in the bitty world. Inhabited by the latest celebrities and moguls, the city was big on fame and wealth but small on morals and values. Strawberry often heard Cherry complain of how much she hated it and how she didn't recommend anyone to move there.

"B-but how? And why? We don't have enough money to make such a move, and we can't just abandon Berry Bitty City!" Strawberry's vision spun before her, her brain unable to decipher the situation at hand.

"We may as well face the truth, girls: there isn't a thing we can do to save the town on our own. We have searched high and low for another source of water and we still haven't found one, and you know that. The only way we can save Berry Bitty City is if we can convince my sister to sell us some of her Preservation Soil."

The girls' ears perked when the words _Preservation Soil_ passed her lips.

"Wait - so the Preservation Soil is _real_? How is that possible?! Every book that I've read about gardening has said it to be a mere myth," Blueberry objected.

"And you said you have a _sister_?" Strawberry added.

"Yes, indeed. The Preservation Soil has been around for centuries, but it's imperative that it remains a secret. There used to be an endless supply of it, but in recent years, it has become nearly extinct."

"Why can't anyone know about it?"

"Because of greed: if everybody were allowed access to it, can you imagine how many farmers would use it to cheat their way into making larger profits from their crops? The soil's effects are miraculous, and if one were to abuse his right to use it, he could easily become the richest individual in the world, therefore putting everyone else into poverty. Nowadays, farmers are so desperate to get their hands onto the cure that they've been known to go to dastard measures to try to steal the last remnants of it from my sister. I was supposed to inherit a portion of the Preservation Soil in case of an emergency, but when it became nearly extinct, my sister was trusted with the last of the soil because she is older. From what I have heard, she keeps it under lock and key in her estate where no one can find it."

"So you're basically saying that you want us to travel to Berry Big City to try to convince your sister to sell us the soil?" Orange asked. "But why can't she give any of it to you? After all, you _are_ her little sister."

Princess Berrykin seemed to ponder deeply before she could give an answer. "When Beatrice and I were teenagers, we didn't get along very well. Our mother and father had...let's just say they left, and it was taken upon us to face the consequences of the situation. Unfortunately, Beatrice's heart grew bitter towards me, and she took the rest of the Preservation Soil and left to reign in Berry Big City. She refused to give me any for fear that I would be careless with it, and so I was left to rule Berry Bitty City and to take care of the..._problem_... myself." She appeared to grow uncomfortable, and she shifted in her seat. "I haven't heard from her since then; it's been nearly seventeen years since I've seen her."

Strawberry furrowed her eyebrows. "Might I ask what the '_problem_' was?"

The princess ran her fingers through her hair, clearly exhibiting that she struggled to find her words. "If I tell you now, you won't know what to think. If you don't mind, I would prefer to keep it to myself."

The girls sat in silence, taking upon themselves the information they had just gathered. Neither one of them could think of a reason horrible enough for Princess Beatrice to mistreat her younger sister and to just abandon her, but they came to the conclusion that Princess Berrykin was only telling them the portions of the story that she was willing to share.

"You said we'd have to purchase the soil from Beatrice - how much does it cost, exactly?" Strawberry crossed her leg over the other in her seat.

"Beatrice charges a very absurd price for the Preservation Soil; the last time I heard of her selling any, she was charging over half a million dollars for just a teaspoon of it."

Strawberry's jaw dropped. "There is no way we can afford that, Princess. Where would we get the money?"

"I realize that, Strawberry, which is why I have devised a plan. I have been collecting the extra money I've been charging you on your bills so I could afford to move you girls to the city. It will only last you a month, though, so use it sparingly. While you're there, you'll need to search for jobs to sustain yourselves, and in the meantime, I need you to start saving every bit of cash you can to go towards the purchase of the soil. If you catch my sister on one of her good days, she may lower the price, thus making it more possible to obtain it from her."

"Hold on, you said 'you' as if you're just sending the six of us to Berry Big City. What about you and the rest of the town?" Plum countered.

Princess Berrykin pursed her lips. "The rest of us townsfolk will reside in the outlying cities such as Rosevale or Oak Tree Meadows." She saw the growing concern on the girls' faces, so she continued, "Besides, I won't be of much use to you girls in trying to convince her to give you the cure."

Strawberry stood to her feet, and a wave of realization washed over her. "Then what about Berry Bitty City? Who's going to watch over the town?"

The princess dropped her gaze, avoiding eye contact with any of the girls. "No one will, I'm afraid. Girls, this may be difficult for you to take in, but Berry Bitty City is gone, and it has been for a while now. It isn't safe for any of us to live here; a wild fire could start at any moment and burn the whole town because it's so dry, or worse, we could be discovered, and I am not willing to take that risk. It is in our best interest to evacuate the town - immediately."

Strawberry slowly took her seat, and the feeling of defeat coursed through her body. All of the wonderful memories that she and her friends shared in Berry Bitty City - how distant they seemed now. All of the hard, tedious work they put into trying to rescue the small town - for nothing.

For the first time in her life, Strawberry Shortcake felt like a failure. Even when she tried to stay optimistic about the town's restoration, she now felt that she had merely been wasting her time. Tears welled in the corners of her eyes; the sore lump rose in her throat. Her breath became uneven and ragged, and she gripped the back of her chair to steady herself. However, as the first teardrop fell from her eye and splashed onto the pavement, she suddenly felt a revelation of determination come over her, the sudden desire not to give up on saving her home. At that moment, Strawberry decided that she would continue to do whatever she could to restore Berry Bitty City no matter what the cost. She raised her head, looked the princess straight in the eyes, and said, "Tell us what we need to do to convince Beatrice to sell us the Preservation Soil."

Princess Berrykin seemed to feed off of Strawberry's newfound determination and gave her a subtle smile, the first one Strawberry had seen from her since before the drought. "The best thing to do is to stay on her good side; if she suspects that you're up to something, she'll never sell you the soil.

"This coming Saturday is her birthday, and a celebration will be held in her honor at her estate. I want you girls to go to this party and cheer for her as much as possible; make signs, posters, banners - anything. If she notices you all and feels she can trust you, she may select you to go on her exclusive palace tour. But you mustn't tell her - or anybody - that I've sent you to try to attain the Preservation Soil from her. Word gets around quickly in Berry Big City despite its size, and if my sister were to discover why you're in town, she could have you arrested for all I know."

The girls were momentarily taken aback, but, like Strawberry, they felt motivated to take the risks in order to save their hometown. Raspberry furrowed her eyebrows. "But wait - if today is Friday, and Beatrice's birthday is _tomorrow_, then how will we have time to leave for Berry Big City?"

"I've arranged for you girls to get on the flight over there in two hours."

"Two hours?! That's such short notice! We have a lot of packing to do, and-"

"Only pack your necessities and valuables and leave the rest behind." Princess Berrykin opened one of her folders and handed Blueberry six plane tickets for coach seats. "I know this is going at a fast pace for you girls: you're all still so young. But I hope that you can understand that we need to take action as soon as possible."

Strawberry nodded. "We understand, Princess, though we're not children anymore. We're old enough and responsible enough to carry out your orders."

The princess discreetly shook her head. "You may not see it now, Strawberry, but believe me, you will. When you experience how harsh the world can be, sometimes you feel like a child who wants to hide beneath the safety of her blanket." She fingered through her documents once more, this time handing Strawberry a piece of paper with information about apartments. "When you arrive in Berry Big City, you're to stay in the apartment building listed here. I've already pre-paid the rent for the first month; unfortunately, I don't have enough to cover the other eleven months-"

"Eleven _months_? Princess, are you telling us that we have to live in Berry Big City for a _year_?"

Princess Berrykin bit her bottom lip. "Yes, which in reality is not much time, for we have only a year for the effects of the Preservation Soil to work. If we plant the soil too late, restoring the town is pretty much a lost cause."

"Oh..." Strawberry looked down at the information she held between her scarred hands. According to the details on the sheet, she and her friends were to stay in the Berry Big City Apartment Complex in apartment 807. She allowed her imagination to momentarily drift as she pictured what it would look like.

With a final clearing of her throat, Princess Berrykin signaled that the meeting was drawing to a close. "That is all, girls. I trust that you will do whatever is necessary to save our home, and I wish you all the best of luck. Just please keep in mind that you only have each other; I want you to encourage and uplift one another and to not place your trust in the wrong individuals. If you ever need my assistance, you can contact me with the number listed on one of your papers."

Strawberry couldn't keep herself from slightly smiling. Even though the princess wasn't old enough to be her mother, she felt she could always depend on her as if she were one. In fact, she had always been a sort of motherly figure to all of the girls, but it didn't occur to them until that moment.

Strawberry Shortcake rolled up the sheet of paper and slipped it into her pocket. "Okay, Princess," she said. "We will."

* * *

**I hope you all are liking the story so far! There's still a lot more to come.**


	3. Goodbye, Berry Bitty City

As her friends departed down the different forks of the road towards their homes to pack, Blueberry Muffin walked the winding uphill path to her bookstore to do the same. Upon pushing through her front door, creaking on its loose hinges from the decaying nails, she was greeted by the familiar clutter of her shop. Hardcover novels were stacked one atop the other, looming over the entirety of the quaint store like skyscrapers. A mixture of printer paper and letters were splayed across her desk, as well as an unfinished cup of camomile tea from that morning.

Blueberry scratched at her scalp in frustration, irritated that she'd have to leave her book shop in such a state of disorder. She had planned to organize the mess that afternoon, but given her change of plans, she wouldn't be able to do so for at least another year, which worried her. With a big huff, she blew her bangs from her face and decided to begin packing.

She lugged the two largest suitcases she owned down the steps of her spiraling staircase, and with a loud thud, she let them plunk to the ground once she reached the bottom. Unzipping the large cornflower suitcase first, she piled book after book into the interior, neglecting to read the titles beforehand: _The Big Bitty Encyclopedia - 2012 Edition_; _110 Ways to Train Your Cat_; _Fairies and Dragons: A Tale of Modern Folklore_. By the time she'd inserted her tenth over five hundred page book into her bag, thus filling it to the brim, Blueberry noticed what she had done and, sighing to herself, emptied her suitcase to start over. Although it pained her to leave her beloved novels behind, she knew that she couldn't take them all with her to Berry Big City.

Brushing them aside, one of the books tilted over the edge of her violet coffee table and fell over the edge, but her trusty collie caught it in time before it hit the ground.

"Thanks, Scouty," Blueberry mumbled as she stood to search for more items to pack.

The pearly white surface of her laptop glistened and caught her eye as she rummaged through her desk drawers in the conquest for her favorite journal. It seemed to be calling her... tempting her. Blueberry tried her best to ignore her sudden desire to power it on but knew that she couldn't resist the urge to do so for any longer.

Because she and the others were restricted from using excessive amounts of electricity due to the depleting glimmerberry juice, they were unable to use their cell phones or their computers so they could conserve energy. Blueberry found this to be particularly difficult: not only did she have to conduct research to manage her bookstore, but she also had daily online chats with Huckleberry. When the Berry Works suffered a major electrical shutdown, she had no choice than to stop communicating with him without telling him why or when she'd speak to him again. Blueberry felt bad that she had neglected to tell him what was going on with the town, so she was compelled to speak to him at that moment.

She slowly extended her fingertips towards her computer, and when they made contact with its cool surface, she slipped her fingers underneath the lid to lift it. Only inches away from the power button, she stopped herself.

"What do you think, Scouty? Should I turn it on?"

The blue and white collie sat in a kneeling position by the coffee table, peering at her with his large, shiny eyes.

Blueberry reached for the oval power button at the front of her computer again. Within seconds, the screen glowed, and she was welcomed by the familiar lock screen. She entered her password and then was brought to the desktop, where she logged into her video chat account, sending a request to Huck's computer to see if he would accept it...

Blueberry leaned back, drumming her fingers on the wooden surface of her desk. Waiting... and waiting... until -

Huckleberry's picture filled Blueberry's screen. He appeared to be at his adoption center, as she could tell by the many pet supplies behind him and the distant barking in the background. Based by his confused facial expression, he must have been surprised that she even bothered to call him.

Blueberry hesitated before speaking. "Um, hey, Huck. How are you?"

He awkwardly scratched at an imaginary itch on his head. "I'm fine. You?"

"Not so good, actually. There's been so much going on here in Berry Bitty City-"

"You mean the stuff you refused to tell me?" His tone grew heavy like he had been deeply hurt, which caught Blueberry off guard. When she didn't speak, he continued, "What's been going on over there, Blueberry? I've tried to contact you all for weeks, and neither of you ever replied. If you don't tell me now, I'm coming to find out for myself."

"I'm sorry. I know you must feel left out since the girls and I have basically excluded you from everything. It's just... Berry Bitty City is in ruins now, so we have to move Berry Big City... today."

His caramel-colored eyes grew wide, and he sat closer to his computer screen. "_What_? What happened? Are you girls okay?"

"Yes, we're fine. We've just been experiencing a severe drought these past couple of months," she said, even though she wasn't being completely truthful. She and the girls suffered from the effects of the hazardous summer heat, but she didn't want to tell him that because it would only make him more concerned.

"Well, if there's anything you need me to do, Blueberry, I'll do it. I can come pick you and the others up if you want me to."

Blueberry smiled to herself, wishing that she had told him about the town's situation from the beginning. She should have known he would understand. He always did...

"No, we have plane tickets to fly over there, but thank you for offering. Gosh, I just miss you so much, Huck." Realizing what she'd said, she bugged her eyes and darted them away from her webcam. Those last few words she hadn't intended to say.

Huck seemed just as surprised as she to hear those come from her mouth, but he replied, "I... miss you too," and gave a nervous chuckle.

A few moments of awkward silence followed as neither of them said another word until finally, at the striking of her grandfather clock, Blueberry snapped back into reality.

"Oh goodness: I didn't realize it was this late! I really need to finish packing."

Huckleberry appeared to be disappointed. "But we've barely spoken for five minutes, and there's still a lot you haven't told me."

"I know, and I promise I'll tell you everything when we get there. Okay?"

"Okay. I'll meet you at the airport," he mumbled before he logged off the video chat feed.

As her computer screen went black, Blueberry felt a rush of loneliness come over her, but she tried to pry the feeling from her mind and returned to her previous activity of packing.

* * *

Strawberry Shortcake turned her house key into the lock of the door to her café. A great shadow formed when she entered the kitchen, her figure seeming long and narrow. She crept up the stairs, taking in every bit of her home before she made her move to the city. She wanted to remember every detail of it, even the crack in the corner of the ceiling, incase she never returned there again. What if her home was gone by the time she returned to Berry Bitty City?

When she placed her hand on the brass knob of her bedroom door, she suddenly remembered that she'd abandoned her pets the previous morning and had forgotten to buy more food for them, and not to forget that she hadn't eaten in over twenty-four hours herself. She feared the worst might have happened to them while she was away, and so she sighed with relief when she found them sleeping by her bed on the floor.

"Oh, thank goodness you two are okay. I was afraid you were-" she decided not to finish her sentence, instead grabbing her suitcase from her closet as the sleepy puppy and kitty awoke from their slumber. While taking it from the top shelf, her heavy suitcase pulled several other items down with it, one item being a striped hat box with old pictures inside, which now spilled to the floor. She crouched to pick them up, but when she read the dates on the backs of of the photos, she sat on the carpeted floor to take a look at them.

One of them dated three years back, where she and her friends were smiling brightly as they presented the opening of the annual harvest festival. Each of the girls held autumn produce in their hands, Strawberry an intricately carved pumpkin, with Plum Pudding photo-bombing them in the back with a carved squash over her head. Strawberry giggled to herself from the memory and picked up another photo.

The next one was dated five years from the current; she and the others had just befriended Cherry Jam, and she had let them wear some of her expensive stage clothes and model in them. They all looked ridiculous in them, and they had a good laugh when they saw the results.

Finally, Strawberry selected a third picture from the stack. She and all of her friends, excluding Cherry, were shown in the image with their arms around each other's shoulders, all of them smiling intently as if they'd never been happier. They all appeared significantly older than they had in the previous image, which had confused her. Strawberry flipped the photo over to the back: the date was April of that year, only a month before the devastating drought occurred.

Strawberry leaned her back against her nightstand, heaving a deep sigh. How happy she and her friends were before disaster struck: calm, carefree, _healthy_. Now that was but a distant memory, and they took on a new set of responsibilities as they became older.

She grabbed some of her older photos to compare them with the recent photo, and she was shocked to see how much she and the others had changed over the years. They had all grown a few inches, with Huckleberry being two inches above the rest of them; their facial features became more distinct and prominent, and their figures had slimmed down and become longer. Considering the fact that Strawberry was now eighteen years of age, she hadn't expected to still look like a twelve-year-old, but nonetheless, she was startled by how much of a change she saw. Stashing the photos back into the hatbox, Strawberry stood and gazed at herself in the mirror for the first time in she didn't know how long. She peered at her reflection, taking notice of her bold green eyes and the vibrant hue of her hair. She brushed her fingers across the bridge of her nose where her freckles were, which seemed to have multiplied in number. Finally, she stepped back to examine her profile, and she felt horrified when she saw the results. She didn't like the fact that she had an hourglass figure, and she folded her arms and hunched her back in shame.

Strawberry couldn't believe she was looking at herself in the mirror. She practically looked like an adult! However, she remembered what she had told Princess Berrykin, that she and her friends were grown, so she thought it the right time to start acting like it.

She moved from the vanity mirror to continue packing, carefully returning all of the photos to her hatbox and laying the container in the center of her suitcase.

* * *

With suitcases in hand and her pets in carriers, Strawberry walked the distance to the airport on foot. While she usually didn't mind the physical activity, today was different in that she was famished, feeling that her legs would fail her at any given moment. Her friends arrived within seconds, appearing to have struggled with their luggage as they entered the airport. Lemon Meringue's bags overflew with clothes and accessories, the blonde struggling to get them all to fit inside the partially zipped opening. In addition to two large suitcases, Blueberry Muffin had a large book bag slung over her shoulder, and she sheepishly looked away when Strawberry took notice of the amount of books peeking over the edge. On the other hand, Orange Blossom was the most organized of the group, having managed to fit all of her possessions into a single large travel case. Raspberry Torte, with her sewing machine in hand, seemed to have the same problem as Lemon, and Plum Pudding arrived carrying only a single duffel bag, her dog Pitter Patch in his carrier, and her boom box.

The Berry Bitty City airport was the only air station the small town had. With its single plane that was rarely used, the only citizen to have ever ridden it was Princess Berrykin when she had to leave for business conferences, which was hardly often. The port was stationed on a hill that overlooked the town, and as the girls looked over the treetops at their home, they saw firsthand how awful the effects of the drought had truly been. All of the plant life that had once surrounded the town had collapsed and shriveled back to the ground from which they came. Therefore, the various shops and homes that were once safely concealed by the berry patch were now exposed for all to see.

Princess Berrykin drew the girls' attention away from their deceased hometown because oddly, she wore a taut grin across the length of her face as if her life were nothing but sunshine and gumdrops, and strangely, she wore a pair of pants and a blouse instead of her typical afternoon attire. Everything about her was radiant, and Strawberry wondered if this was the same distraught princess that she'd spoken to just two hours before.

"Well, this is it, girls. Are you excited?" she asked, attempting to make casual talk. The girls only blinked once as their reply, much to the princess' chagrin, so she continued, "Listen, I want you to enter Berry Big City with your shoulders back and your heads held high; don't think about Berry Bitty City too much. Remember that you have a year to convince my sister to give you the Preservation Soil, so please don't become discouraged or distracted. If you're going to prove to her that you deserve it, you need to show her that you're confident and reliable. I know it pains you girls to leave home, but you can't let the citizens of Berry Big City know that you're homesick."

Strawberry reached across to give the princess a hug, burying her face in the golden locks of her hair. "Thank you, princess, for doing this for us. I don't know what we would have done without you."

Princess Berrykin hugged the freckled girl back, squeezing her tight as in a 'you're welcome' manner, and replied, "I believe in you girls."

Strawberry separated from her, looked ahead at the pilot of the plane who motioned that it was time for take off, and followed the girls towards the entrance of the aircraft.

The inside of the plane was fairly small in size with only about twenty seats in all. The floor was lined with outdated carpet with an unappealing color, and a narrow lane between the passenger seats led to a utility area in the back. A series of windows lined the walls of the narrow space, accompanying every placing for the passengers.

Strawberry and her friends bumped and clanked their way to the coach seats in the back with their heavy luggage and pet carriers, nearly hitting the few other passengers from the nearby towns who nonchalantly spoke of visiting their relatives in the process. They opened the upper compartments and shoved their bags inside before plopping into their seats, relieved to finally get them out of the way. The seats were cramped and uncomfortable, and the girls were shoulder to shoulder with one another, but they didn't complain because they couldn't afford any seating of a higher class.

As the pilot spoke into the intercom that the plane was ready for lift off, Strawberry could feel the body of the machine begin to travel forward and saw the pavement move behind her. Princess Berrykin stood alone on the far side of the track and offered her a sad but sure wave, and Strawberry returned the gesture, the plane surging forward towards the edge of the sloping hill and finally descending into the morning sky. Everything below her shrunk as they rose higher, and the princess became nothing more than a blurred dot, the town of Berry Bitty City transforming into a brown splotch.

Strawberry moved away from the window and butterflies formed in her stomach, in part due to the high altitude of the plane, but mainly because she was afraid of what lay ahead in Berry Big City. As she turned her head and saw her friends slowly closing their eyes, she decided to do the same and drifted into a deep sleep.


	4. Berry Big City

Strawberry awoke with a violent thump to her head as the plane landed with a thud at the Berry Big City airport. She rubbed the back of her skull. Had she really slept through the entire four hour flight? Once her sleepiness wore off, she blinked her eyes and peeked out the window next to her. Immediately, her sight was filled with the image of several extravagant buildings, some of them as tall as skyscrapers, and many colorful blimps that decorated the sky. However, her view was obscured when the pilot drove the plane beneath the shield of the airport cover.

She felt a surge of excitement bubble within her, though she didn't understand why. How could she feel this excited about entering Berry Big City when her own home satin ruins? Strawberry turned to Blueberry, who was seated to her left, and said, "We've made it to Berry Big City," with a slight smile forming in the corners of her mouth that she tried to disguise.

The pilot of the plane informed the passengers that they had reached their destination and opened the exit door that led down the steps. The girls stood and gathered their belongings and pets, which had grown restless during the long flight, and headed towards the exit. Blueberry pushed past the others and briskly descended the plane steps, and Strawberry wondered why she was in such a hurry until she saw her blue-haired friend run and nearly jump into somebody's arms.

"Huck!"

Strawberry looked up: Blueberry and Huckleberry were wrapped together in a tight hug, seemingly in no hurry to let go of one another. Strawberry was confused. How did Huckleberry know that they were flying to Berry Big City? Had someone told him?

She and the others finished going down the remainder of the steps, and instantly, they were greeted by him the same way he had greeted Blueberry.

"Strawberry, I'm so glad that you and the others are okay! How are you?" he said as he let go of her from and unusually strong hug.

"We're fine. But... how did you know we'd be here?" She raised an eyebrow, and instantly, she had the answer to her question when Blueberry lowered her gaze to the floor. "_Bluuuebeeerrry_..."

"Okay, so I told him that we're moving to Berry Big City. So what?"

Strawberry rolled her eyes. "You know that we aren't supposed to tell anyone about this! How did you contact him, anyway?"

Again Blueberry's face gave away the answer, and this time Orange butted in. "Don't tell me you turned on your computer - you know how much energy that uses!"

Blueberry folded her arms across her chest. "Look, I don't know why you're making it such a big deal. Does it even matter anymore? Berry Bitty City is gone now, so it's not like the electricity would have been used for anything else. Besides, Huck is our best friend - don't you trust him?"

This time Strawberry and Orange lowered their gazes. Blueberry had clearly proven a valid point, and in the process, they had offhandedly insulted their friend when he was showing that he cared about them.

"You're right, Blueberry. Huckleberry, we're sorry; we didn't mean it like that," Strawberry finally said.

He only gave a slight nod and didn't say anything else, and instead he grabbed some of their luggage and started walking towards one of the exits to a different section of the airport.

* * *

The eightsome walked through the vast Berry Big City airport, weaving in and out of the groups of skeptical pedestrians who watched them as they passed. They could clearly tell that the girls weren't from there, and they snickered at them in contempt.

From what Strawberry observed firsthand, everyone in this city upheld themselves differently from the citizens of Berry Bitty City. For one thing, they wore an excessive amount of cosmetics, sporting the latest hairstyles and trendy clothes. Many of the teenaged girls that she passed were going crazy for whatever was in their teen magazines, and the adults allowed their young children to roam around on their own and interfere with other individuals while they squandered their time on their phones.

The friends stepped under a huge glass window that replaced the ceiling, and when they looked up, they could see the tall buildings that overshadowed the airport. After walking across the vast area for what seemed like hours and getting their plane tickets validated, they finally reached the exit and entered the city. They were instantly hit in the faces with the excitement of city life upon passing through the swivel doors; the streets were flooded with heavy traffic, cars honking at other vehicles and trying to go around them. A mob of citizens cluttered the walkways, and gigantic billboards advertising the latest products were posted along the sides of the over twelve-story high buildings. The air smelled of a heavy mixture of expensive cosmetics, fast food, and smoke, a smell that would be most unpleasant to anyone who was new to this kind of environment.

Lemon stepped to the edge of the rugged sidewalk and lifted her arm, calling for a cab as she frantically waved her hand back and forth in the air. Despite that she yelled at the top of her lungs, her squeaky voice was barely audible above the awfully loud noise the traffic produced. Just then, Huckleberry pulled his keys out the pocket of his jeans and shook them to get her attention, and understanding what he meant, Lemon turned back around and shouted even louder, "_TAXI_!"

He held up his keys again, thinking she didn't know what he meant. "Lemon, my van is parked less than a block from here; I can drive."

Plum shook her head. "No, really, it's nice of you to offer, but we're fine with renting a cab. So we'll just-"

Strawberry cast her a warning glance, signaling for her to be quiet. Although she didn't want Huckleberry driving she and the girls either, she didn't want to hurt his feelings a second time. Huck had issues with his confidence, so he was prone to being pretty sensitive at times, and as a result, he became offended easily. Although from the outside one would assume that he was a carefree individual, he was the total opposite in that he was a very emotional person deep down inside. Despite that he was a licensed driver, he had a bad habit of getting himself into car trouble; nearly every time he went to visit the girls in Berry Bitty City, he always managed to get himself into some kind of accident.

Plum, understanding Strawberry's message, cut herself short. "But if you want to drive us, then that's okay, too."

* * *

Strawberry's friends and their luggage were tightly fitted in the back of Huck's van with a few empty pet cages while Strawberry climbed into the passenger's seat, and realizing that this was the first time she had ever ridden in his van, she decided to take a look around.

The interior was a dark gray with dog bones embroidered on the fronts of the seats. Half of a strawberry-shaped key chain dangled on its golden chain that hung across the rearview mirror, and immediately, Strawberry thought of Cherry because it was one-half of the good luck charm that she'd given to him a few years back. The whole inside of the vehicle smelled of shampoo and fresh interior, which she thought odd since she'd always imagined it to smell like animals and fur. She checked the glove compartment and found multiple books that he must have borrowed from Blueberry.

Huckleberry opened the door and climbed into the driver's seat. He turned the key in the ignition, and the _pup mobile _came to life.

Strawberry pulled the sheet of paper the princess had given her prior to their departure from the side pouch of her bag. "We should drive north to Big Bitty Boulevard to get to our destination," she clarified.

He tugged at his brown bangs. "Yeah... but I just realized that I forgot to lock my store before I left, so we have to stop there first if you don't mind."

Strawberry sucked in her bottom lip, leaned back in her seat, and quietly heaved an irritated sigh. _Typical Huckleberry_...

* * *

The supposedly fifteen minute drive to Huck's pet shelter took more than an hour due to the incoming flow of traffic. Every inch of road was covered with a vehicle from every category, from bikes to motorcycles to limousines. Strawberry and the gang remained silent the whole ride except for a few exchanges of small talk about how magnificent Berry Big City was.

Strawberry's eyes had begun to grow heavy as she drifted off to a peaceful cat nap, but when she finally did, she received a soft poke to the shoulder. Her eyes fluttered open after only being closed for a matter of seconds, and through the tinted windshield of the van, she could see the entrance to the pet adoption center.

Huck removed his keys from the ignition and pushed open the door. "This will only take a moment," he said before stepping out.

Strawberry gently grabbed his wrist to stop him. "Wait - we'd like to go inside first."

Huckleberry led his friends past the glass double doors of the small brick building. Upon entering, they were greeted with a receptionist's desk that sat in a diminutive front office. A couple of leather chairs sat in the corner for incoming guests, and nearly every inch of wall space was covered with framed pictures of animals and coloring book pages that were supposedly decorated by children. Another door was stationed behind the desk, and when Huck opened it, they were taken into a larger room that was filled from top to bottom with pet cages. Instantly, the girls' ears were vacated by the constant unanimous cries of various animals. A third and fourth door were displayed at the very back, and from Strawberry's perspective, one led to a vet area and the other to a flight of stairs, perhaps to Huckleberry's apartment.

Huck slipped his fingers through the small gaps of the metal cage beside him, and a tiny white kitten approached him, allowing itself to be petted.

"So what do you think?" he asked, removing the feline from its chamber and cuddling it in his arms.

Strawberry took one more look around before she replied, "Your pet hotel looks really great, though I don't see how you manage to take care of all these animals by yourself."

"They can be a handful sometimes, but it's not as difficult as it seems." When the cat became agitated with him, he placed the squirming white feline into her arms. "So what exactly has been going on with Berry Bitty City?"

Strawberry winced at the mention of her hometown. She looked down into the bright blue eyes of the furry friend she now cradled in her arms before she told Huck, "It's the drought - it's killing the town and threatening the lives of those living in it. The girls and I have been toiling the the ground for weeks, but as you can rightly assume, we haven't had any luck." The cat struggled to free itself from her, so she held onto it tighter. "Princess Berrykin sent the six of us to Berry Big City to try to convince her sister to sell us the Preservation Soil. If we can get it from her, we can save the town."

"Who's her sister?"

"Princess Beatrice."

"They're _related_? Well, now that I come to think of it, they do look a little alike, I guess. But what is _Preservation Soil_?"

"It's the only known fertilizer in the world to reverse the effects of deceased plant life. According to my books, it's mythological, but according to Princess Berrykin, the last of the Preservation Soil is said to be with her sister, Beatrice," Blueberry clarified in her typically logical manner.

"You have to promise not to tell anyone about our plan," Orange warned, giving Huck the eagle eye.

Raspberry pointed her finger in the air. "Yeah, because if you do, we could be, well, arrested."

Huckleberry creased his forehead in surprise. "_Arrested_? You're really taking a risk, aren't you? But don't worry, I won't tell anyone, not that I'd have anyone to relay it to except for Tom Tom."

Strawberry frowned. "Haven't you been talking to Cherry?"

"I've tried calling her several times, but each time I did, she was either busy or she just ignored my calls. I take it that she's just too busy with her tour to speak. You're all staying with her, aren't you?"

Strawberry shook her head. "No, the princess rented an apartment for us instead. But that's funny: Cherry usually never avoids our calls. I wonder if something's going on with her."

"Well, whatever it might be, I'm pretty sure that she'd rather talk to you about it than me. So how are you supposed to convince Princess Beatrice to give you the Preservation Soil? She's a fairly strict ruler here in Berry Big City, and she has no tolerance for anyone who's snooping around."

The white kitten wiggled free from Strawberry's arms and jumped onto the cold floor, where it limped over to Blueberry's feet. Blueberry then scooped it into her own arms, where it sat still.

Huckleberry looked awestruck as if she had just turned a cart-wheel on a tightrope with her hands tied behind her back when the actual procedure was yet so simple. "How did you do that? Usually Isabella never likes for anyone to hold her."

Blueberry gave him a shy smile. "You just have to hold her the right way. I read all about the proper ways to care for cats in one of my books a while ago," she explained.

For a solid moment, the two of them just gazed at one another, and Strawberry watched them in puzzlement until Orange interrupted, "We have to go to Princess Beatrice's birthday party this weekend and try to get chosen to go on her 'exclusive palace tour'. Since you live here, you would know all about it, wouldn't you?"

"All I know is that it's the most important semi-formal party of the year that almost everyone in Berry Big City attends."

Raspberry smacked her lips. "That's all you can tell us? Surely you've been to one."

Huck abruptly shook his head. "I've never been to one in my life, and frankly, I plan to keep it that way. You know I can't dance."

"You can't argue with that," Plum said, recalling past events when Huck tried to dance in which he wound up looking like a scarecrow with a severely broken arm. He had no sense of rhythm whatsoever, which was the easiest for her to point out because she was such a dedicated dancer.

"Look, you don't have to go if you don't want to, but it's imperative that the rest of us do." She could already see Blueberry looking disappointed from the corner of her eye."What time does the party usually start?"

"I don't know, I'm guessing around seven at night. Are you sure this plan is going to work? I don't mean to sound negative, but what if you're not chosen to go on the tour?"

"Huck, this plan has to work, so please don't tell me otherwise! It's the only hope we have to save Berry Bitty City, so we need to stay optimistic, okay?"

Strawberry's voice nearly cracked as it rose, and she clenched her fists before she got the urge to slap him. She had dealt with enough negativity over the past two months, and she felt that any more of it would make her go insane. But then her expression turned into one of worry: what was happening to her? She'd never shouted at anyone before, let alone one of her best friends, and she ultimately began to feel disgusted with herself. Was it because she was sleep-deprived or the fact that she was starving to death? She didn't know. She now felt bad that she had been rude to that poor boy for the second time in one day.

He held up his palms in defense, clearly alarmed by her sudden outburst, and seemed afraid that she was going to hit him, even though that kind of action was highly unlikely of her. "I'm sorry."

Strawberry unclenched her hands. "No, it's not your fault. I'm just a little stressed, I guess." She glanced at the circular clock on the wall, which informed her that the hour was nearing four in the afternoon.

"We should probably head to the apartment complex now," she finally said.

Abstaining themselves from commenting, the other girls gathered around the door, and Blueberry handed Isabella back to Huckleberry to put her back in her cage. At that moment, Strawberry remembered that she still hadn't fed her own pets since the previous morning while she watched the crying feline being put away.

"Huck, you wouldn't happen to have a bag of dog food lying around, would you? Oh, and cat food?" she sheepishly asked.

* * *

The eightsome pulled into the parking lot of an aged tan building that read "Berry Big City Apartment Complex" with some of the insides of its letters missing. Strawberry scrutinized the paper she held in her hand in the hopes that they were at the wrong location, but to her dismay, the address of the complex matched the address on the sheet precisely. _Is this really all we can afford in the city?_ she thought as she hesitantly stepped out of the vehicle. She and the others walked through the entrance of the small adjoining building where they were greeted by the unwelcoming lobby.

A be-speckled middle-aged woman that reminded Strawberry very much of Jadybug from the Berry Bitty City post office sat behind the receptionist's desk. She met she and the others with an annoyed and tired gaze when they approached her.

"Welcome to the Berry Big City Apartment Complex," she boredly recited. "How may I help you?"

Strawberry lifted her paper. "Uh, yes, we would like to check into apartment 807."

The receptionist lowered her gaze to view her above the rim of her glasses. "_We_?"

Strawberry turned her waist, motioning to her friends with her index finger.

The lady heaved an irritated sigh. "You really mean to tell me that all seven of you are sharing an apartment?"

Strawberry's face flushed. "No, only six of us," she defensively said, even though her remark didn't do her justice.

The lady blew another annoyed sigh before she lazily fished through one of her drawers for the specified room key. She seemed to take her precious time, slowly moving to the other various drawers on her desk before she found the right one.

"Name?"

"Strawberry Shortcake."

"Age?"

"Eighteen."

After requiring her signature, the receptionist stamped something onto a document on her desk and handed Strawberry a tarnished key.

The girls and Huck went up a long, weathered flight of stairs outside of the complex until they reached their destination. Strawberry unlocked the door and flipped the switch for the lights, and a single yellowed lightbulb illuminated the empty area, revealing a dusty and faded wooden floor. Curtains with a dated floral print were carelessly dangling on their rods, and a sooty fireplace sat in the quaint space that was supposedly the living room. A narrow hallway introduced a series of small bedrooms and a single bathroom.

Blueberry forced a half-grin, although it was obvious that she was displeased. "_Aahh_... so _this_ is our new home for the next year. It's... interesting."

Strawberry stepped into the tiny kitchen, where the tiled floor was stained with age, a burnt spot was unsuccessfully concealed by a filthy-looking rug, and the appliances were in desperate need of an upgrade and smelled of old grease.

"Home sweet home..." she mumbled, and her heart dropped in her chest.


	5. Unexplored Grounds

**Author's Note: So there's a little bit of, I guess you could say, _romance_ in this story, but thankfully it isn't what the whole thing is about. I'm new to writing about it, so please bear with me. But don't worry, there's nothing inappropriate. Anyway, thank you to those of you who are reading this story; it's good to know that I'm not just writing for the air. ~BlueVanilla79**

* * *

Blueberry Muffin shifted beneath the covers of the inflatable mattress that she and her friends purchased from the convenience store the previous their new apartment wasn't furnished when they rented it, they had to buy cheap blow-up furniture from across the street as a temporary means of having real furniture. The blow-up bed wasn't the most comfortable compared to the feeling of a real mattress, but at the time, that was the least of her concerns. She rolled to her side and sat up, slowly peeling her eyelids apart from each other.

The morning sun peeked in cracked beams through the bent blinds in the small bedroom. Blueberry placed her bare feet on the gross oatmeal-colored carpet, which buckled beneath her when she stood. She looked across at Strawberry, who was still sound asleep in her own bed despite the fact that the clock said that it was passed noon.

Blueberry tip-toed to her suitcase so as to not disturb the slumbering redhead. From what she could decipher from Strawberry's demeanor in the last few days, her friend had been dealing with a lot of stress over the issue of saving their hometown. She had grown thin and frail, and she lacked control of herself in dealing with the burdens of added pressure.

Unzipping the larger of her suitcases, Blueberry gently tugged at her favorite tank top, but it resisted her efforts of setting it free, so she had to open her bag a little wider in order to prevent snagging the article of clothing. The friction between the zipper and the bag created a displeasing rubbing noise that caused Strawberry to flutter her eyelids open. She sniffed robustly, then stretched her arms and stifled a deep yawn and focused on Blueberry.

"Morning," she whispered.

Finally, Blueberry freed her polka-dotted shirt. "It's the afternoon, actually," she said while rummaging to find a pair of skinny jeans. Strawberry became panic-stricken, so Blueberry calmly added, "Beatrice's party doesn't start until seven; we have plenty of time to get ready, so don't worry."

Strawberry inhaled and exhaled deeply to calm herself, but she still appeared worried.

Becoming concerned, Blueberry sat down beside her. "Hey, are you okay?" she asked.

"Yes, I'm fine. It's just... ever since the drought hit Berry Bitty City, I've had these dreams where everything is the way it used to be, the way it should still be now. When we were cheerful and happy, you know? These visions are vivid, and I begin to think that everything is all right, but just as soon as the visions come they go away, and I return to reality. I feel like the good times that we all once shared are just a distant memory. What if Berry Bitty City truly is gone? What if Beatrice doesn't give us the soil after all?"

Blueberry lifted Strawberry's hands. "Strawberry, this isn't the end of Berry Bitty City. We're going to retrieve the Preservation Soil from Beatrice, and once we do, we can enjoy life in our hometown once more and create new memories. We just have to keep our minds open and have a positive perspective, okay? Isn't that the kind of thing you would tell us when we were discouraged?"

Strawberry slowly nodded.

"Okay, then. And even if things don't work out, at least the eight of us will still have each other, right?" Blueberry felt multiple swollen lumps in the palms of Strawberry's hands, so she flipped them over. Several puffy scars lined her palms, and each one of them looked very irritated. "Strawberry, what happened to your hands?!"

Strawberry snatched her hands away, concealing them by folding her arms. "Nothing. I just accidentally cut myself while doing the dishes," she mumbled, and stood to leave the room.

When Blueberry finished changing into her day attire, she went to the living area where she found Raspberry hard at work sewing their gowns for the party that night, pushing up her pair of reading glasses whilst she tried to concentrate on the pattern she had displayed before her, and Lemon made posters on the floor. Orange and Strawberry washed the dishes in the attached kitchen, and Plum stretched her legs in the corner.

Lemon traced over one of the large letters on her banner with a neon green marker. "Hmm, I still think these are missing some thing. Blueberry, would you be a dear and buy some glitter pens for me from the convenience store across the street? I'd buy them myself, but I need to start on everyone's hair."

Blueberry examined Lemon's prestigious artwork on the large piece of paper board; her friend always had a natural gift for the arts. "Your posters are already magnificent as they are, but sure, I'll buy some for you."

She swiped her keys off the counter and left the apartment, going down the stairs outside the complex and eventually to the store across the busy street. She stepped through the revolving doors of the general store and went to the craft section where she found a six-pack of glitter pens for two dollars, which was rather expensive compared to the usual price she'd pay for them back at home.

She made her way to one of two lines in the store, and when the cashier scanned her item, she realized that she had forgotten to bring her wallet. She checked the pockets on her pants for any loose cash - she had no luck whatsoever.

"Oh dear, I must have left my wallet at home. Is it okay if you hold those for me while I go back to get it?"

However, just then a familiar hand reached past her to hand the cashier the required amount of money. She spun around on her heel and saw Huck behind her holding a roll of paper towels and a can of disinfectant spray, and Blueberry became puzzled, but she allowed his kind gesture. She didn't speak to him until after they'd exited the convenience store.

"Thank you, but you didn't have to do that for me," she said, and removed the pack of glitter pens from his bag. "I could have just gone across the street to get my wallet. When did you get here, anyway?"

"I know, but I figured that I could save you some time by paying for them myself. Anyway, I came here a few minutes ago to buy some cleaning supplies: one of my dogs sort of, well, had an accident. I'm surprised that you didn't see me walk in."

"I must have been thinking about something else," she mustered.

Huckleberry walked to the right-hand side of his van. "Listen, I'll talk to you later, Blueberry." He climbed into the driver's seat and started the ignition.

Blueberry placed her hand on the opening of the window, her mood having flipped a whole three hundred sixty degrees in a split second. "Where are you going?"

"To Acorn Acres to deliver these German shepherds to one of my clients," he replied and scribbled a note on his clipboard.

"Oh..." she backed away from the window to let him close the door, but he didn't. He only sat there, looking at her and drumming his fingers.

"Do you want to come with me?"

Blueberry raised her head. "All the way to Acorn Acres? I don't know; I'd have to make it back in time to go to Beatrice's birthday party."

"The trip will only take a few hours, so I should be able to bring you back with enough time left for you to get ready. What do you say?"

Blueberry momentarily contemplated the idea before she made her decision and climbed into the passenger's seat.

* * *

The two-hour drive to Acorn Acres was one filled with the constant chatter of mysteries and mystery-writing, subjects that the two of them hadn't been able to discuss for months due to long distance. They spoke of their favorite fictional detective, Patty Persimmon, and of her most recent adventures in her latest novels as well as the various other topics that only the two of them enjoyed discussing.

Blueberry enjoyed conversing about something besides the perilous state in which her hometown lay, and for the first time in months, she felt at ease with her life, which was how she always felt when she spoke with Huckleberry. He was the only individual who completely understood her, the only one who could tolerate her nerdy antics.

As he drove, she secretly admired him. He was everything she could hope for in a friend and even more beyond that. He was the one who she felt she could completely trust, although he came across as a constant fibber when they'd first met. He wasn't perfect, of course: he still had problems with his confidence, but that's what she felt had made him so unique: it caused him to be humble rather than arrogant, and that was one of the many reasons why she liked him so much. The way his bangs fell into his caramel-colored eyes and his smile she found dreamy, and the way he'd always looked out for her and the others...

Blueberry quickly turned her head away when she realized what had happened: she'd developed a crush on her own best friend. She felt embarrassed, no, _humiliated_, and tried to bury her feelings for him, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't. When she was younger, she'd promised herself that she would never allow this to happen, but a few short years later, she found herself breaking that same promise. When she thought more about it, she came to realize that she'd actually felt that way about him for a while. Though her heart said otherwise, she had tried to make her feelings unknown to him because she didn't want to ruin their friendship. However, now she couldn't help but wonder if he felt the same way about her.

The van pulled onto a dirt road that spiraled into a winding path that headed to an acorn-shaped farmhouse. At first no one emerged from the worn barn, but when Huckleberry honked the horn of his van, an aged cricket man wearing overalls and a straw hat came from behind the shuffle doors. He tipped his hat to welcome him, and Huck stepped out with his clip board with Blueberry following behind him.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Huckleberry. You brought my German shepherds?" Alfred Cricket asked. He looked to Huck's left and was surprised when he noticed Blueberry standing next to him. "My - who is this beautiful young lady here? Has Mr. Huckleberry got 'imself a little girlfriend?"

Huck's face turned a twinge of scarlet. "Uh, no, sir, this is my friend, Blueberry. But yes, I brought your, um, German shepherds."

He jogged to the back of his _pup mobile_, which left Blueberry alone with Alfred. The old cricket extended his hand to her, and it felt moist as she shook it.

"Nice to meet ya', Miss Blueberry. May I ask where a young, pretty 'un like you came from?"

"Berry Bitty City, sir, though I recently moved to Berry Big City this week," she replied.

"Ah, I should a figured as much. My, well it seems every'un is movin' to the big city these days," he continued. "So how long have you and Mr. Huckleberry known each other?"

Blueberry tried to discreetly wipe the palm of her hand on the back of her jeans after he let go of her. "For over four years, sir."

"What in tarnation?! _Four years_? And he still ain't courtin' ya' yet? Don't worry, sweetie, the boy may be slow, but he ain't stupid. He'll come around."

Blueberry giggled uncomfortably as Alfred playfully patted her on the back and gave a throaty chuckle, and Huckleberry approached them from the distance with multiple pet carriers in his hands. Based on the expression on his face, he'd probably heard everything Alfred Cricket told Blueberry.

He set the three cages on the dusty ground, and several baby German shepherds emerged from the openings when he unlocked them. The small, multi-colored puppies sniffed the dirt and chased one another around the outside of the barn and eventually went to explore their new home in the vast, open field next to it.

Blueberry looked up to watch them frolic around, but when she did she couldn't help but notice another farm structure that she failed to spot before. It was fairly faraway, but it was impossible to miss: a rather large farmhouse painted in darker hues with a billow of smoke emitting from the chimney, another building of similar structure sitting not very distant from it. Somehow, it made her feel uneasy with its unwelcoming aura, but she shook the thought from her mind.

"My, look at them things go. Maybe now I can have some'un to watch over my crops so them dang wild animals will stop eatin' my plants." Alfred signed his signature on Huckleberry's clip board and handed him a check. "Good deal, Mr. Huckleberry, good deal. I reckon you'd best be on your way," he finally said.

* * *

As she and Huck walked back to his van, Alfred jokingly winked at Blueberry and waved to her, which made her feel all the more awkward. Huckleberry had insisted that they take a lunch break before they drove back to Berry Big City, so he took Blueberry to a tranquil lake that he said he'd liked to visit whenever he went to Acorn Acres. When they arrived, he opened the back doors of his van so they could enjoy the scenery while they ate their lunch.

The picnic that he packed consisted of a plain bologna sandwich on wheat bread and a few slices of freshly cut watermelon with a thermos of apple juice, and while the food was enough for only one person, he split the meal in half to share with her. And so they sat together on the back of his van, quietly munching on their half-sandwiches and taking in the beauty of the body of water before them.

The lake sparkled as the afternoon sun passed over it, and the sky painted it the most lovely shade of aqua, a shade that one only might see portrayed in the form of a painting. Various species of fish swam beneath the water, though at given times some of them leaped above the surface, the golden flecks of their scales glistening in the sunshine. The whole area was surrounded by a seemingly endless amount of fir and pine trees and a few sleepy willows that drooped over the top of the lake. Blueberry couldn't tear her eyes away from the sight; this pond was the most beautiful thing she'd seen since she'd left Berry Bitty City.

She and Huck finished their lunch, and it wasn't until then that she realized that neither of them had spoken much since they'd left Alfred Cricket's property.

Finally, almost like he read her mind, Huck said, "I'm sorry about what happened back there. Sometimes Alfred says things that can make a person feel uncomfortable."

Blueberry removed her sight from the breathtaking view. "It's okay." She tapped her fingers on the floor of the van. "So what part of it did you hear?"

"All of it."

"_Ohhh_..." Blueberry picked with a loose thread on the padded interior. "Is he always like that?"

"Yeah, pretty much. He usually only means it as a joke, but sometimes he has some truth behind what he says. I just wish he'd quit it with saying that I need to find a girlfriend - it's humiliating."

Blueberry darted her eyes away from him; her heart dropped into her stomach. He didn't like her after all, did he?

"So... _is_ there anyone that you like?"

He turned back to her and appeared puzzled. "What?"

In an attempt to play off the subject, she nonchalantly flipped her hair to her other shoulder, but in the process of doing so she realized that what she did more so made her look as if she were trying to flirt with him.

"I was just wondering," she quickly added. "I mean, you think Strawberry is pretty, right? Don't you like her?"

Huck winced a little. "Well, _yeah_, I think she's pretty, and I _do_ like her, but not in that way. Why would you ask me that?"

"I'm just curious. I guess that I just thought that you and she would, I don't know, perhaps date or something. I guess we were all expecting it." Even though Blueberry was the only one who actually liked him - well, she assumed she was - she had always imagined him and Strawberry becoming a couple although the mere thought of it aggravated her.

"Well, I don't know why everyone would come up with that assumption. Strawberry seems to be pretty annoyed with me recently, anyway. Haven't you noticed?"

"Well, yes, but that's only because she's been stressed out. Stress can do that to a person, so don't take it so personally. She's having a rough time."

"Yeah, perhaps that's the case."

An awkward silence followed. "So... is there anyone that you currently like?" Blueberry interjected a second time.

"Why are you asking me all of these questions all of a sudden? Do you _want_ me to like somebody? What if I kept asking you the same thing? Do _you_ like anyone?"

Blueberry thought for a moment. Other guys existed, but Huck was the only one that she knew in person, so of course he was the only one that she liked.

"_Well_..."

"Wait, do you really? _Who_?"

He seemed to become defensive all of a sudden, which she took as a good sign.

"I'm just joking with you. Of course there isn't anyone that I like."

"Oh. Good, then."

Blueberry snapped her head around. "Wait, what?"

"Huh?"

"You said -"

"Oh - _shoot_!"

Blueberry just sat there and stared at him. "Huck, are you trying to say that you... like... _me_?"

He began to fidget and rubbed the back of his head, looking down at his sneakers. "I, uh, well... maybe..."

"Because if you do, I...kinda feel the same way."

He looked at her in wonderment. "You do?"

"Erm, yes."

Both of them turned their heads away, avoiding eye contact by all means. Then, they slowly looked back at one another, and they involuntarily began to lean towards the other person. They seemed unsure at first, but they went through with the kiss anyway; it was short and simple, but when they pulled apart from one other, they both looked horrified as if they were wondering what in the world they had just done. Out of instinct, Huck and Blueberry both raised their arms and wiped their mouths like children would in the same kind of situation, and they didn't speak to or even dare to look at one another during the whole two-hour drive back to Berry Big City.


	6. The Princess' Domain

**Author's Note: Well, here's another chapter! I hope you all like it. ~BlueVanilla79**

* * *

Blueberry quickly climbed the steps to her apartment in a race against time; her cheeks burned in part because she was winded from running but mainly because she was utterly humiliated. After she'd kissed Huck, _one of her best friends_, she felt too ashamed to even talk to him, let alone look at him. Immediately after the incident, the air became awkward between them, and as soon as he dropped her off, she bolted out of his van and ran without once looking back at him. Her heart rapidly pounding in her chest, she felt horrified. _What had she done_? She could have prevented the kiss from happening and therefore have saved their friendship, but instead she let her feelings get the best of her and went through with it. Oh, how she regretted it now. She felt almost sick to her stomach and leaned against the brick wall to support herself, catching her breath, inhaling and exhaling. She realized that the time was past six in the evening, so she fumbled with her keys to unlock the front door to her apartment.

She stepped into the living area and instantly saw all of her friends in their party attire, hairstyles and all, while she just stood there looking disheveled, the red in her cheeks fading and causing her to look whiter than usual. The girls' eyes widened.

"Blueberry, where have you been?! We were worried about you!" Strawberry placed a hand on her hip, demanding a response.

"I was out with Huck," she contritely answered, handing Lemon the bent pack of glitter pens.

"Doing _what_?''

"Look, we just drove to Acorn Acres to deliver some dogs to one of his clients," she said, keeping in mind to leave out the parts about the lake and them kissing.

Plum rolled her eyes. "Seriously, Blueberry? You should have told him that you had other plans. He would have understood, he's not _that_ pitiful. Plus, you could have at least told us where you were going and have had the decency to take your cell phone with you."

Blueberry placed her hand on her back pocket, just then realizing that in addition to forgetting her wallet, she also forgot to bring her phone.

Lemon sighed and placed the glitter pens on the counter. "What am I gonna do about your hair? It looks like a bird's nest. If you hadn't left for several hours, I would have had time to style it."

Blueberry trotted past them to the hallway. "I'm sorry, girls. Don't worry, I promise that I won't make you late; I only need a few minutes to get ready."

She went to her and Strawberry's bedroom where she found one of her cerulean dresses lying on her mattress with additional pieces sewn to it that she assumed Raspberry had added while she was away. She slung it over her arm and went to wash up in the bathroom across the hall. She slipped into her dress, which fell just above her knees, applied a decent amount of eye makeup and lipstick, and put on her favorite pair of dangling silver earrings. As for her hair, which truly did look like a nest, she grabbed the hair brush out of the basket by the sink and brushed it to its naturally silky state. Finally, she slicked her blue hair into a neat ponytail and rummaged through her suitcase to find her silver heels to wear with her dress.

"I'm ready," she said, and glanced at the clock to see that it was six thirty-five.

The girls stood on the sidewalk outside the building where other individuals who were also dressed for the occasion gathered in clumps. Each time a cab pulled by the sidewalk, they near-fought the girls and the other guests in order to climb into its backseat. Strawberry and her friends tried - and failed - to call a taxi several times, but each instance they caught the driver's attention, someone else beat them to his cab. Fifteen minutes of unsuccessful attempts had gotten the best of them until they at last managed to call a taxi for themselves and quickly piled into it. The people who didn't have any luck whatsoever scowled at them when they saw them shut the doors in their faces so they could head to Beatrice's birthday party.

The bitty taxi cab was puny and pathetic in appearance; clearly it was a model of the current year but was left in poor condition, and it produced the stenchy odor of an excess mixture of different glimmerberries. Its seats were rough and hurt the girls' bottoms, and the glass windows were in dire need of a cleaning. The backseat that was meant to seat three was inhabited by the six girls, who were all cheek to cheek and shoulder to shoulder with one another as they all struggled to fit.

The vehicle passed through the iridescent lights of the city; the bright flashes illuminated the insides of the car as it drove under the various telescreens and billboards. Many of the boards advertised the promotional products of food, shopping centres, and popular cosmetics, and quite a few of them contained blown up images of Cherry Jam. On one, she had one hand placed on her hip and the other holding a microphone, dressed in her typically expensive attire that had evolved over time. Once dressed in cutesy clothes that reflected her bubbly personality, Cherry was now adorned in more age-appropriate clothing which in Strawberry's opinion looked good on her but didn't suit her at all. She couldn't figure out how her pop star friend managed to perform in those boots with the near five-inch heels on them.

Strawberry thought of her friend again, wishing more than ever that she could just hug her and have a mutual conversation with her. She realized she'd taken the ones she used to have with Cherry at her café for granted, and given her current situation, she mentally decided to never do so again.

Not surprisingly, traffic was even more packed than it had been earlier, but the only difference was that this time the other drivers seemed to hurry so as to not be tardy for the princess' celebration. Strawberry peeked her head through the smudged window as several limousines passed by, and one of the them in particular had one of its windows left open which she saw as an advantage to do a bit of snooping. She recognized the famous actress, Candace Fig, and her even more famous younger brother, Caleb Fig. Candace was busy scrolling through the feed on her cell phone, her auburn hair falling into her face; Caleb looked upset about something, but when he noticed Strawberry looking at him, he gave her a sad smile. She was momentarily starstruck, but so as to not act like a crazed fan, she returned the grin. But inside, she couldn't help but wonder why he looked so depressed. When she returned the gesture, though, Candace saw her and closed the window.

The girls were driven onto a glowing over-water bridge, and at last, they could see a grand estate growing larger before their eyes. The property itself was almost twice the size of Berry Bitty City as a whole, and the mansion that sat within it constantly shifted hues from the neon lights that were buried within its bushes. The entire estate sat on a hill with a circular stone wall built around it for protection, and from a distance one could make out the spot lights of a gigantic amphitheater, which put Berry Bitty City's performance area to shame. A single blimp that read "Happy Birthday, Princess Beatrice" floated across the starry sky above it, and immediately Strawberry identified the property to be the princess'.

The worn taxi cab and most of the other vehicles on the road drove down the circular path that surrounded the wall of Beatrice's home, where they parked to drop off their passengers. While the ordinary citizens were taken to the front entrance, the limousines carrying the higher class citizens looped around to the back to access the private entrance.

The girls combined their loose cash to pay the ridiculous price that the taxi driver demanded from them, and after doing the said transaction, Strawberry and her friends left the cab to join the crowd of people who stationed themselves outside of the iron gate. The impatient ones of the group pushed and fought their way to the front while the others of them tried to force them to the back.

Strawberry looped her fingers around the bars of the gate, noting its curlicues structure that she discerned was the same as Princess Berrykin's gate in Berry Bitty City minus the fact of it being tarnished. Instead, this one was larger and more extravagant. A gruff-looking security guard motioned for her to move away from it, and he pressed a button on his miniature remote. The doors of the gate parted, and within an instant, the crowd of people tried to force their way into the property, but they were stopped by the several security guards who were composed of bugs, Berrykins, and astonishingly a few humans, who forced them to go through a metal detector first. Most of the citizens went through the detector with a solid green check mark, but as Strawberry and her friends passed, she noticed a few of the party guests being handcuffed.

Strawberry stepped onto the cobblestone in her three-inch heels, where she was met with the festivity of the celebration at hand. Before her was a whole venue of people seated at long, narrow tables, where they were waited upon hand and foot by the accompanying waiters and waitresses. The sophisticated older guests took pleasure in the fancy platters of lobster with crème de menthe sauce and caviar, and nearby the younger guests enjoyed the many benefits of an outdoor buffet.

The victuals created a most pleasing aroma: when Strawberry sniffed the air, she smelled fried fish, then chicken lasagna, and that changed into the scents of freshly baked apple pie and sticky buns once the wind shifted, which she found delightful.

She directed her attention to the right hand side of the property where an enormous ferris wheel adorned with berry-shaped lights was placed. It lit up and flashed lights in all kinds of different patterns and contortions to the rhythm of the loud music that filtered through the speakers on the stage. Strawberry peered to the top of the ride, but when she did her attention was drawn to a numerous amount of balconies extending from the sides of the mansion that she hadn't noticed before. Most of them were inhabited by some of the other guests, but one of the balconies remained empty. However, once the night clouds shifted away from the full moon, she thought she saw an indistinguishable figure standing in the shadows. She squinted to try to get a better glimpse: she could barely make out the outline of a woman who appeared to be holding a twinkling scepter. Her hair glided in waves across the subtle wind and had as light golden twinge to it in the moonlight. Strawberry's eyes widened. _This must be Princess Beatrice_, she thought, and the figure disappeared into the blackness of the shadows.

A mob of screaming fans ran past she and the girls towards the amphitheater stage and, out of curiosity, they decided to follow the berserk guests. Fake smoke emitted from vents on the stage, and Delia Dragonfruit emerged from behind it and began to belt her latest single. The crowd roared as the curly blonde danced from one end of the stage to the other, the eccentric-dressed backup dancers mimicking her every move.

Strawberry and her friends were constantly bumped from the audience swaying from side to side, which proved to be a bit burdensome when their shoulders began to bruise, but in an instant, though, Delia paused in the middle of her song and extended her arm.

"Now give it up for my good friend, Cherry Jam!" she cried, and stepped back to catch her breath.

Cherry appeared from the billows of smoke. An over-sized pair of sunglasses concealed her eyes; she sported a glittery short black dress with a chunky pair of cowboy boots. She raised her bangle-clad arms above her head to clap her free hand against the base of her microphone and called at the top of her lungs,"Happy birthday, Princess Beatrice! Here we go!"

The back track of Delia's single transitioned into the instrumental intro of one of Cherry's hits, and the two singers performed a duet.

Orange Blossom nudged Strawberry's arm. "Strawberry, it's Cherry!" she shouted, though she was barely audible above the noise.

Strawberry nodded in response. Was Cherry finished with her world tour? She thought to when she'd last spoken to her, but she couldn't recall any specific conversation as to how long she would be away. Either way, she was prepared to surprise her friend when she finished her performance. Pushing the previous thought aside, she mentally decided that she would try to sneak backstage after the show to visit her.

The performance closed with the launching of fireworks and the official entrance of the princess. The crowd watched in awe as she coolly descended the steps of her mansion followed by a long line of Berrykins and her bodyguards. Like a homecoming queen she waved, and with a single fling of her scepter she magically changed the colors of the flowers lining her path. The audience cheered and clapped in utter amazement.

Strawberry studied Princess Beatrice closely: her appearance, her composure, the way she smirked whenever the audience clapped for her - she was the total opposite of Princess Berrykin. Instead of having the sunny golden locks that her younger sister inherited, she harbored a more brunette color of hair. Her eyes were a shade of sea green rather than that of Princess Berrykin's yellow-green, and at all times, she left her eyelids in an arrogant slant. When she stood, she held her shoulders back and stuck her upturned nose in the air so that even though it wasn't necessary, she could always look down upon anyone she associated with. Her wand looked much like Princess Berrykin's except that it was more spiked and pointed, and her crown was the same way, intricately detailed with jewels and made of gold.

Princess Beatrice stopped to examine the crowd of people who surrounded her. As her eyes panned across, she came to an abrupt halt when she saw Strawberry and her friends in the front row. They had assumed that she noticed them because of Lemon's handmade signs, but she seemed to look beyond the posters for something deeper. She just oddly stared at them until one of her assistants asked her if she was all right.

"Yes, I'm fine," she responded and shook her head to clear her mind. She then stood on the platform of the connected porch. "Good evening, my loyal guests, and welcome to my annual birthday extravaganza. I am grateful for those of you who could attend; please, go enjoy yourselves and have some fun. Cake cutting will begin at eight-thirty, and at nine-fifteen I will select the four lucky people to go on my exclusive palace tour. Thank you." She stepped off the platform, and everyone in the audience broke into several small groups to partake in the activities that the property had to offer.

Strawberry whipped around towards the stage to see if she could find Cherry, but the pop star had already left. All she saw was the staff cleaning confetti - however, she spotted one of them dipping into a hidden door on the side of Beatrice's mansion.

She tapped Blueberry on the shoulder, who seemed to be having another one of her spaced-out moments. "I'm going to look for Cherry," she said, turning to leave.

Blueberry caught her arm. "Aren't we supposed to be keeping an eye on Beatrice?" Strawberry brushed her off. "I think we'll be fine with not doing so for a little while. Besides, if she notices us watching her she'll grow suspicious."

With the insides of her pumps forming blisters on her toes, Strawberry tried to jog across the lawn as discreetly as possible. Her shoes only slowed her down, so she slipped them off and walked barefoot the rest of the way to Beatrice's mansion. She looked both ways to make sure she wasn't being followed and snuck through the private entrance.

The entry took her to a supply room for cleaning materials: mops and brooms were posted along the walls, and buckets of sudsy water lined the floor. The dark area seemed to be a dead end until Strawberry made out a thin rectangular strip of light that led to another doorway.

She was taken to another flight of stairs and thus to a long hallway, which harbored many more doors. Slipping the painful high-heels back onto her feet, she contemplated which of twelve ways she should go. A security camera posted on the far corner of the ceiling made her realize she was being watched, so she had to make her decision wisely. She chose the second door on the right cracked it open to peek inside.

A magnificent vanity table was the first thing she saw, but there were no signs that the room was being inhabited by any individuals. She cracked the door a bit more so she could fit inside, and based on the many stage outfits that were piled on the mini sofa, Strawberry figured that she had entered a dressing room - but was it Cherry's?

Slowly turning the corner that led to another area, she heard the quiet sound of footsteps on the tiled floor.

"Cherry?" she whispered, and was surprised to see that the individual that was there was in fact not Cherry.

Delia Dragonfruit froze when she saw Strawberry standing in her dressing room. She wore a pair of sweat pants and held a pudding cup in her hand.

"_Who are you_?" she cried, alarmed, and began to scream a shrill so loud that Strawberry thought her ears would fall off, therefore not even allowing her a chance to speak.

By instinct, Strawberry zipped around the corner, out of the dressing room, and back into the hallway. The lens on the security camera adjusted itself, focusing on her as its subject. She tried not to panic: if Beatrice had her arrested for trespassing the very same night she met her, her opportunity of attaining the Preservation Soil from Beatrice would be ruined. What would she tell Princess Berrykin and her friends who were all depending on her?

To avoid enabling the face recognition feature on the device, Strawberry ducked her head and swiftly ran to the very last door in the wide hallway. She was led to another flight of stairs, where she climbed them and entered a guest bedroom with an attached balcony. The room didn't contain a bed but was instead converted to an entertainment area.

A distant chatter echoed from the balcony. According to the different vocal patterns, there was a whole group of people stationed on it. Strawberry turned to go back but was struck with the thought of the security camera recording her again; feeling low on options, she decided to stay and crept towards the balcony's entrance. She first hid herself within the safety of the drapes and peeked around the edge, spotting a group of ten or more people conversing as they enjoyed complementary glasses of punch and viewed the other party guests below them.

She thought the coast was clear when she saw them, but a nagging feeling wouldn't leave her alone. Something was familiar about these individuals, she just couldn't place her finger on what. Didn't the brunette girl on the far left look just like the star from her favorite television program? And wasn't the lady with the erratic white hair the famous talk show host Mavis Maraschino? Then it hit her: she had entered the portion of Beatrice's house that was strictly reserved for celebrities, and she had trespassed by going in there to search for Cherry.

Inside, Strawberry wished that she had listened to Blueberry before she'd just randomly decided to take off the way she did. If she was kicked out of the party for sneaking around, she'd never forgive herself and neither would anyone else. She took multiple silent deep breaths to calm herself before she formulated her escape plan: bolt for the door and not look back. The plan hardly sounded effective, but it was the only idea she had in the flustered chaos of her mind.

Quiet as a mouse, she delicately, if not very carefully, unwove herself from the expensive fabric of the drapes. Her plan succeeded - that is, until the heel of her obnoxious shoe knotted itself in the curtain's tassels and caused her to stumble face-first to the ground in front of everyone. The crowd of stars stared at her in horror. _An intruder!_

Strawberry slowly rocked onto her scuffed knees to look at them, and right before her were Candace and Caleb Fig, the two actors she'd spied on in their limousine on their way to the party. Surely she had gotten herself into a pickle.

* * *

**Things will really start to pick up in chapters seven and eight, and soon I'll enter the main context of the story as well as for the series in general. Anyway, thanks for reading!**


	7. The Depths of Predicament

**Author's Note: Here's chapter seven. It's a little on the shorter side, but hopefully the chapters will begin to lengthen in the next ones to come. Anyway, Cherry finally has a role in the story, so I'm excited to actually start writing for her character. ~BlueVanilla79**

* * *

Strawberry rose to stand before the group of stars; trying to act casual, she adjusted the hem of her dress and fixed her hairpiece. The celebrities didn't move but only intently stared at her, half-expecting her to whip out a gun from the back of her dress and force them to do her bidding. When she didn't, though, Candace retrieved her leopard-print cell phone from her designer handbag. Her thumbs moved swiftly as she dialed the numbers on the touch screen keypad while she kept an eye fixated on Strawberry.

Caleb peered over his sister's shoulder. "Who are you contacting?"

"The princess: she promised we wouldn't have to deal with any intrusive fans at this party, yet this one has been stalking us since the drive over here. Security should take care of this problem in a few minutes."

Strawberry was panic-striken. _This is it_, she realized. She was going to be arrested only her second day living in Berry Big City and jeopardize her chances of saving Berry Bitty City. And all while the thoughts flowed through her mind, she appeared scared and confused, which didn't help much in her case.

She waved her hands in the air and shook her head. "No - please - I'm sorry. I took a wrong turn. I can leave you alone." She spun towards the direction of the exit and darted for the door, but Candace roughly grabbed her arm before she could escape, the perfectly manicured nails of her hand digging into her skin.

"You think you're so clever, don't you? Thinking you can run off to tell your friends, hm? I'll tell you this, I'm not one to fall for that sort of trick. The last time a so-called 'fan' played the innocent card, she returned with a group of friends and tried to rob us." Her grip only intensified around the middle of Strawberry's arm, which made Strawberry wince. Noticing her pain, Caleb wrenched her arm free from Candace's grasp, only hurting her already bruised arm even more.

"Candace, leave her alone! She hasn't done anything wrong," he interjected, also snatching the phone from her.

Candace scoffed, "She hasn't yet, anyway. Just give her a few minutes and she'll have you thrown over the balcony."

A few of the other celebrity guests left while the two siblings argued, and amidst the drama, Strawberry sat at one of the outdoor tables and buried her face in her arms.

* * *

Cherry sniffed down the last of her summer cold as she turned the brass knob to the green room. The sequins on her performance dress irritated her skin; a bead of sweat dotted her forehead. She felt irritated and upset over the recent problems she'd had to deal with, which were so infinite in number that she'd lost count.

After spending six months travelling in a bus, she was fatigued in that the constant bumps in the road caused her an excessive amount of discomfort. She was tired of the same schedule that she had to repeat on a daily basis, composed of waking at the crack of dawn and not being able to rest until past midnight. She hadn't had any contact with any of her friends due to her busy schedule, and her recent breakup with her boyfriend was the icing on the cake. This collection of problems swirled in her mind all day and all night, but she felt that she could finally start to relax since she had just finished her world tour. At last, no more rehearsals, no more meet and greets, no more autograph-signing, and most importantly, no more working with Delia.

Struggling to breathe through the congestion, she opened the door and was met with the familiar faces of her publicist and her boss. They both had an air of seriousness about them, and from past experiences, Cherry knew that wasn't a good sign. She hesitantly shut the oak door and grabbed a bottle of water to soothe her dry throat. She sat in the arm-chair across from them, crossing her legs and hoping that they weren't too displeased about whatever they were upset about.

Her boss clasped his hands together and leaned forward in his seat; her publicist folded her arms and did the opposite.

Mr. Pearson adjusted his glasses and cleared his voice. "Miss Jam, I just want to commend you for the outstanding work you've done throughout your world tour," he began, "but now that you've finished your tour, we need to think of a way to keep you in the public eye. As you are aware, the demographics for your fan count have decreased significantly since you've started frequently disappearing for several given months at a time."

Cherry rocked forwards in the leather chair, heaving a resented sigh. "So even after I went on a six month-long tour around the world, released a new album, and shot two new music videos, that _still_ isn't enough to sustain my career? What more do you want me to do?!"

"Listen, Miss Jam, what you have accomplished in the last few months is wonderful, but those things are only temporary. After a while, people will put those things behind them and demand to see more from you. They'll think, 'okay, we've seen this from Cherry, but what will she produce next?' which is why we need to get to work on some new projects for when that time comes. What you need is something that can become a backbone for you at for at least a said amount of time."

"How about a reality show? They seem to be all the rage among the youth these days. If it's successful, she can sustain her career for years and gradually regain her popularity," her publicist suggested. "After all, the _Berry Glitz and Glamour Network _has been eager to do business with her for the longest time."

Mr. Pearson excitedly slapped his hand on the coffee table. "That's it!"

Cherry sat, her lips momentarily left agape. A reality show was one of the last things she'd wanted to resort to if her career ever fell out of line. The thought of a camera crew filming her on a daily basis horrified her, and would she even have time to visit her friends anymore? Plus, from what she'd seen from past reality shows, the experience often ruined the protagonists' lives as well as their relationships with other people, and Cherry did not want to take part in anything that would to the same to she and her friends.

"You can forget about a reality show," she firmly declared, thus draining her boss's enthusiasm. "I'll just accept the loss of my fans."

Her boss became grave. "Surely you don't mean that, Cherry. Perhaps this will change your mind: if you don't want to commit to your job, then I will be more than happy to start working with another artist who is more dedicated to her career, such as your friend, Delia Dragonfruit. She was phenomenal on stage tonight, and she's so genuine, too."

Cherry scoffed. Clearly her boss didn't know the British R&amp;B artist the way she had: the girl who'd been her best friend early in her career and the same girl who stabbed her in the back years later. From that time on, Cherry didn't want to have any association with Delia whatsoever, but to her demise, their record companies thought it a great idea to have the two of them collaborate.

Cherry bit her bottom lip. "And if I still say 'no'?"

"Then you can start looking for a record label, or else your career will go down the drain. You can't keep hiding from the public, Cherry. Being one of the greater stars in the world, it's imperative that everyone hears from you once in a while."

She heaved a resigned sigh because she knew that he was right: she _had_ been spending too much time away from work, and her actions placed her social standing at risk. Whenever she visited her friends in Berry Bitty City, she'd enjoyed her time with them so much that she lost track of time, and as a result, she'd missed several weeks-worth of work. Once she returned home, she'd become behind on so many of her projects that the load became unbearable. Even after she faced the consequences, she still found herself returning to the petite town and repeating the same cycle once more. In fact, she was supposed to secretly drive back over there at the crack of dawn, but because of her job, she now couldn't.

Berry Big City became that of a ball and chain to her; the stress was excruciating, and now that she was no longer allowed to visit her secondary home, she felt that she would go insane. However, then she thought of the other side of the decision at hand. If she decided to give up her career to live with her friends, how would she support herself? Music was all she ever knew, and if she stopped singing, she'd have nothing left.

"Alright," Cherry consented, "I'll do the reality show. When do I begin?''

Mr. Pearson's eyes lit like twinkling stars, and he revealed a toothy grin. "The sooner the better. We'll see if we can set up an appointment to meet with the _Berry __Glitz and Glamour Network _on Monday." And with that, he gathered his briefcase, and he and Cherry's publicist exited the green room.

* * *

Cherry lazily walked through the corridor; she didn't bother to change into her party clothes first, instead deciding to leave on her black dress and boots simply because she didn't feel like changing. She glided her fingertips along the smooth paneling on the walls in sync with her steps, her head hung low.

She felt depressed, depressed about her life's turn of events, depressed that she had to resort to getting a reality show, and depressed that she hadn't seen her friends for such a long time. Since her departure from them half a year ago, she'd hardly had any opportunities to communicate with them, and when she did she was too exhausted from performing to speak. Without the comfort and advice her friends provided her, she felt all-around crummy.

Cherry turned to head down the adjacent staircase, but before she made it to the first step, two security guards rushed past her towards the last doorway posted in the long hallway. Momentarily puzzled, she slinked in their direction, peeking her head through the door frame to obtain a glimpse at the situation. She saw the two guards approach the celebrity habitat in Beatrice's mansion, the stars all appearing distressed, with a single girl standing between them.

The girl stuck out like fresh bait; anyone could easily tell that she didn't belong with the group of stars just by looking at her. Her face wasn't caked with an excessive amount of makeup, her clothing wasn't made of over-priced materials, and with those distinct freckles and bright red hair, she was impossible to miss.

Just as one of the officers snatched the girl by her wrist, realization flooded over Cherry. The girl was Strawberry! Without thinking, Cherry flew from behind her station and bolted towards the balcony. She ran a bit too fast, though, because she nearly knocked over a few of the guests when she darted past them.

"Let her go!" she shouted at the top of her lungs, startling everyone.

The officer holding Strawberry retrieved a pair of handcuffs from his belt. "This girl snuck through a restricted entrance and has been convicted of harassment. Under the princess' orders, we are instructed to arrest anyone who does so."

Cherry contemplated for a moment. "She's my special VIP guest, officer," she fibbed, "I guess she just came to look for me but took a wrong turn. She didn't mean to intrude."

The security guard exchanged looks with his partner. "But I was informed that she allegedly attempted to attack Miss Fig."

"Officer, this girl wouldn't hurt a fly. Are you really going to believe that? Look at her: completely harmless. I want you to release her. _Now_."

Reluctantly, the officer released his grip from Strawberry's wrists. "My apologies, Miss Jam. We'll drop the conviction, but please tell this girl to be more careful next time." And with that, he tipped his hat towards Strawberry, and the two guards left. The other guests murmured their consent to her and went about their business, but Candace continued to glare at her like a snake and left the balcony.

Cherry turned her attention to Caleb. "How could you have let that happen to Strawberry?! You _know_ that she's a close friend of mine!"

"I _did_, but Candace wouldn't listen to me!" Caleb extended his hand to Strawberry. "Hey, I'm sorry for what happened. Sometimes my sister can be a little out of whack."

"I highly doubt that: when have you ever stood up to her? You certainly never did when we were dating."

"Sweetie -"

"Don't call me that."

"_Cherry_, I've tried apologizing to you again and again about what happened. When are you finally going to forgive me?"

"When I see that you've changed."

Cherry turned her back on him and pulled Strawberry into a tight hug. "Oh my goodness, Strawberry, what are you doing in Berry Big City?! I've missed you and the others so much!"

Strawberry hugged her back but watched Caleb over Cherry's shoulder. She started to feel bad for the teenaged actor when he darted his emerald eyes toward the ground and stuck his hands in the pockets of his pants, his jet-black hair obscuring his face.

When Cherry pulled away, she motioned to the doorway. "Come on, you can tell me all about your trip while we find the others."

Cherry led Strawberry through a different path of the grand mansion on the return to Beatrice's party. They encountered several hidden passages and multiple stairways, and all the while Strawberry wondered how her friend could have possibly known her way around.

"I've performed here since I was nine," Cherry replied as if she'd predicted Strawberry's thoughts.

"You've done so for quite a while, then. But... what's going on with you and Caleb Fig? I didn't know you two knew each other, let alone _dated_."

Cherry wanted to avoid answering that question at all costs, so she sighed. "We just weren't getting along very well. With our careers and him letting Candace be a pain in the neck towards me, things just didn't work out, and I broke up with him. I'm better without him, anyway."

"Oh. Do you mind if I ask how you met?" She carefully asked because she knew that the topic was sensitive to her.

"We shot a music video together a while ago. Didn't you see it?"

Strawberry shook her head.

"But I thought you said you would support all of my upcoming projects -"

"I know, but I couldn't because Berry Bitty City is... no more. Resources were so low that I didn't even have enough electrical power to call you."

Cherry gasped. "W-What happened?"

"A continuing drought. But once we get the Preservation Soil from Princess Beatrice, we should be able to restore the town."

"Preservation _what_?"

"Look, I'll have to tell you everything later - it's quite a handful of information."

They reached the exit to the lawn, but Cherry blocked the door. "Strawberry, I advise you to avoid the Figs at all costs. After what happened tonight, there's no telling what other kinds of trouble they can cause you."

Strawberry was caught off guard. "But why is Candace so... uptight?"

"She and her brother had a traumatic childhood, which caused her to become overly protective when she became older. She can't trust anyone, not even her own parents, so she's quick to accuse anyone of trying to harass her. I mean what I said, Strawberry."

Strawberry pushed open the door. "After tonight, I seriously doubt that I'll cross paths with the two of them again, but okay," she replied, and the two of them re-entered the festivities of the party.


	8. Tables Turned

**Author's note: This chapter was a little harder to write than the others: I wanted to try to get it just right so I wouldn't have to go back and change it later. Anyway, Beatrice's character is so much fun to write about: I love how witty she is and how quickly she pieces information together. With Strawberry, on the other hand, she needs to learn how to stand up for herself, but she's so polite that I almost don't think she's capable of doing so. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter! ~BlueVanilla79**

* * *

Strawberry and Cherry weaved in and out of the cluttered groups of people during the hunt for their missing friends. Strawberry recalled seeing them last at the amphitheater before she snuck inside the mansion to search for Cherry, but after nearly being kicked out of the party, she had stayed in there at least over half an hour, which was longer than she'd intended. Additionally, the guests seemed to increase in number, and they obscured her view.

Circling the entirety of the property, they had nearly given up until they came across the handful of teenage girls by the carnival games. Blueberry cuddled an abnormally large stuffed elephant while she appeared unsure about something, and the rest of the girls pouted because they hadn't won a single prize.

"Cherry!" they shouted in unison and trotted over to greet her. They backed away from her, though, when they heard she'd recently been sick.

"Has anyone seen Beatrice since I've left?" Strawberry asked, attempting to sound casual. She could only hope that word hadn't gotten out about her little ordeal, despite that the officer told her he would drop the charge against her.

"She's just been observing the party the entire time. It's funny, considering that this whole celebration is in her honor, yet she won't participate in any of the activities. But does anyone else have the odd feeling that she's watching us? Wherever we go, her eyes seem to follow," Orange pointed out.

Strawberry whipped her head around. As Orange had stated, the princess stared directly at them with an intense, fixed gaze. Her eyelids folded into a crease like a hawk watching its prey, and Strawberry couldn't decipher whether if she was simply trying to see or if she was glaring at them. Either way, it made her nervous, and she forced down the tight lump growing in her throat.

The princess stood, removing her gaze from the girls, and coolly left the balcony where she entered the rest of the party. Just then, a number of Berrykins rolled in her birthday cake, and Strawberry could only gawk at its size and the amount of work that the bakers must have put into it. Every inch of it was ornately decorated with a variety of fruits and candies, some of which Strawberry couldn't name, and atop the lavish dessert stood a circular row of fancy-looking candles.

The party guests gathered around the cake to sing the classic birthday anthem. The entire time, however, the princess seemed bored and yawned by the time they had finished. Strawberry thought she was being rather rude: how could she act so dissatisfied when she had such a grand party to look forward to every year? But then again, after throwing the same celebration for so many years, she must have grown tired of planning it. The annual expenses must have exhausted her wallet, too.

A chef presented an over-sized cutting knife and sliced it into one of the five layers of the dessert to reveal a chocolate base with a vanilla filling. The audience cheered with delight, and they were instructed to form a single line in order to receive a slice. The procedure took over half an hour due to the infinite number of party guests.

Strawberry finished her red velvet slice of cake with buttercream filling, and when she tossed her paper plate and plastic fork into the trash, the princess returned to her podium.

"Please assemble yourselves together so we can begin the raffle for the palace tour," she said in a most quiet voice, and even though the crowd erupted with chatter, they went crazy and pushed and shoved their way to the front row.

Strawberry wasn't prepared for the sudden outburst, and she stumbled to the ground trying to fight back.

She had to make it to the front row. She _had_ to. Not only did her own life depend on getting chosen by Beatrice, but so did her friends' lives and everyone else's in Berry Bitty City.

No matter how hard she fought, shoved, and pleaded, the other contestants refused to let her past them. They stabbed her in her ribcage with their elbows to send her reeling backwards, and after allowing this to happen over ten times, Strawberry found herself behind everyone else in the lonely back row. On the other hand, her friends had made it to the fifth row, and they waved their posters above their heads with all their might to attract the princess' attention.

Strawberry tried to retain her composure. Amidst all of her competitors, she was the one who was least likely to get chosen, and she realized that her chances of getting chosen were zero in a million. She was so far in the back that the princess would need a telescope to be able to see her. At least her friends still had a decent chance of going on the palace tour.

The princess scrutinized the screaming crowd before raising her index finger. "Let's see..." she panned across a final time before continuing. "I choose you, you, you, and-" she extended her arm outwards, "you."

The crowd screaming from both anger and delight, a select few people bounded towards the stage, but Strawberry couldn't identify them due to her lack of view. She sighed and crumpled to the ground, trying to strategize how in the world she was going to get the princess' attention now. Did she still have a chance, even if it was the slightest bit the size of a ginormous one? _Nope_, she thought. _Probably not_.

However, a quiet murmur erupted from the audience, then the sound of a shocked cry, as if some kind of tragic event occurred. Strawberry looked up: the crowd had parted and created a long pathway between her and the stage, and that caused her to frown with confusion.

Beatrice stood at the end of the line, she and everyone else directing their attention on none other than her.

"Child, are you coming or not?" the princess impatiently asked, tapping her scepter in her other hand.

Strawberry's heart turned a cart-wheel. What was she talking about? "Excuse me?" she said, obviously still in her confused state, in which the other guests mentally scorned her for.

"I said to come to the stage. Do you want to go on the tour or not?" the princess repeated.

Strawberry pointed to her sternum. "You mean me?"

"_Yes_, who else would I be talking to?"

She lifted herself from the ground, brushing off her party dress. Carefully trudging through the disapproving contestants, who seemed to envy her but tried to appear cheerful. She inched towards the stage as others surrounding her whined and complained, but she didn't want to walk too fast for fear of being mistaken.

"Goodness, child, we haven't all night!"

Fearing disqualification, Strawberry jogged the rest of the way to the stage. She hoped that the other selected contestants were her friends, but when she climbed the steps she was met with three unrecognizable faces. She thought she recalled that a fourth girl was already chosen, but she only saw three other winners. Had Beatrice disqualified the last girl and then chosen her as her fourth winner? She searched through the audience, and from where she stood she couldn't imagine how Beatrice could have spotted her all the way in the back row.

Beatrice removed her microphone from its stand and held it to each of the girls. "Please state your names."

"Penelope McSprout."

"Gwen Firethorn."

"Margo Mango."

"Strawberry Shortcake."

The princess stiffened when Strawberry stated her name, and Strawberry noticed.

"Come with me," the princess said without comment.

Strawberry looked to the audience one last time before she and the others entered the mansion. Her friends all smiled brightly and offered her an encouraging thumbs-up, and the double doors were shut behind her.

* * *

The four winners were taken into a vast chamber that extended about one hundred feet. An expensive glass chandelier dangled from the ceiling, casting little flecks of light along the walls. Various paintings were displayed in golden frames, and Strawberry supposed that the subjects depicted in them were Beatrice's ancestors.

One of the paintings in particular caught her eye, but it was too high for her to see it properly. From what she could decipher through the shadows, though, the individuals in the painting appeared to be a family; the mother and father stood behind two young girls, the elder one Strawberry automatically assumed to be Beatrice, and the younger one with the little blonde locks... Strawberry gasped. The girl was Princess Berrykin, but most of her face had been scratched out of the photo.

Strawberry's train of thought was interrupted by a repeated sequence of flashes. Since the beginning of the tour, one of the other winners whose name she'd forgotten had retrieved a digital camera and had begun to snap a number of photos.

"Hey! Photography is strictly prohibited," one of the security guards warned, whom Strawberry hadn't noticed until that moment.

The camera was confiscated, the girl almost in tears, but Beatrice continued with the tour as if she hadn't cared. She led the group to other doorways in the corridor where they were introduced to other rooms that contained similar elements. This same sequence was repeated in which Beatrice introduced her guests to the seemingly infinite number of rooms in her mansion, and all the while, Strawberry remained mute, the other winners asking an endless supply of questions which the princess dully answered. Instead, Strawberry used her time searching for clues for the Preservation Soil, but she hadn't discovered a single thing.

To her dismay, she knew that the tour was drawing to a close when Beatrice brought she and the others to her office. The other girls roamed about, placing their hands on whatever knickknacks they were allowed to touch on the built-in bookshelves, and one of the security guards notified the princess to express a concern of his.

Strawberry saw this as the perfect opportunity to do a bit of investigative work and was immediately drawn to Beatrice's desk. She discreetly traveled towards it, slipping her hand into one of its drawers.

She rummaged through its contents, but she found nothing more than floral-print stationary and a few office supplies. She checked the drawer next to it, but it contained similar contents. Strawberry sighed to herself, disappointed that there were no documents for the Preservation Soil, and turned to find the princess standing directly behind her.

"My, aren't we being a bit curious?''

Strawberry froze, her tongue becoming stiff. She looked into Beatrice's narrow eyes and began to panic. How was she going to explain herself now?

"You shouldn't stick your nose where it doesn't belong," Beatrice said as she shut the drawer and sat at her desk. Strawberry still didn't respond, and for that the princess rolled her eyes. "You're a quiet one, aren't you?"

Strawberry attempted to find her voice. "I-I'm sorry."

"Where are you from, child?"

The abrupt question caught her off guard. "Berry Bitty City."

The princess flinched again like she had on the stage, only this time it was more evident. "I see. I assume you're under the rule of Princess Berrykin, then."

"Yes, your highness. Your sister is an exceptional leader."

Beatrice frowned. "Who told you that she's my sister?"

Realizing that she'd said too much, Strawberry mentally slapped herself on the forehead. She should have known not to bring up that she knew the two rulers were siblings.

"Um, word gets around, I guess."

The princess nodded, but it was clear that she didn't fully believe Strawberry's response. She clicked her tongue in a sort of annoyed manner and clasped her hands into fists.

"So what brings you here? To Berry Big City, I mean," she asked.

"I-" Strawberry couldn't muster to come up with an excuse. She definitely couldn't tell her why she truly came, but then again it's not like she had much of a choice. However, she wasn't used to lying, and through past experiences she learned that she was a terrible fibber. She tended to twitch her nose and unintentionally made her voice unconvincing, and while she never really minded this inability of hers because she'd never needed to lie, given the current situation, she'd have to quickly teach herself how to be dishonest before she blew her cover. "- just wanted to experience the city life," she finished, her voice faltering and nose wiggling.

The princess obviously didn't buy her story, but she proceeded anyway. She seemed to grow suspicious. "Did you by any chance move here with your..._family_?"

Strawberry tensed her muscles: that topic was fragile to her, one that she wanted to keep personal. "_No_, your highness, I just came here with my friends."

"Surely you must keep in contact with your family, then."

"No, I don't, actually."

Beatrice just watched her, the petite girl in her party dress shuffling her feet on the tiled floor and looking into the stained glass ceiling.

"You don't remember me do you, child?"

Strawberry looked back at her with uncertainty. "Excuse me?"

"Ah, I should have figured as much. Typical little Bethany! She sent you here, didn't she?''

"I don't know who Bethany is, but how do you know who I am? We've never met until now."

Beatrice gave a sort of maniacal cackle. "Really, girl? Has it really been so long that you've forgotten one of the individuals who saved your life?"

Strawberry became alarmed. "_Saved my life_? But when - how-"

"Perhaps you should try asking my sister. Give it up, child, I know why you're here."

"You do?"

"Indeed: isn't everyone after the Preservation Soil?"

Strawberry could only gape at how quickly Beatrice caught on to her plan, how she outsmarted her and made her look like an idiot in only a matter of minutes.

"But, but - how did you know?"

"It seems that you would have the common sense to consider the fact that your town has been featured on the news. A severe drought, huh? I knew that my sister would come crawling back to me for help sooner or later, but I never thought she would use you and your friends to try to clean up the mess that she created. Go home, girl, I do not wish to deal with any more trouble from you."

Strawberry dropped to her knees and pleadingly clasped her hands into a tight fist. "Please, your highness, Berry Bitty City won't survive without the Preservation Soil! My friends and I will lose our homes if the town isn't cured. It's all that we have."

Beatrice rubbed her chin, the room becoming vacated with quietude except for the ticking of the clock. Something seemed to click deep within her heart, for her stern expression began to soften.

Strawberry stayed in her position, locking eye contact with her. "Please? We'll pay you," she simply said in a young girl's voice.

Suddenly, the connection they momentarily shared was gone, and Beatrice broke eye contact with her. She frowned as if she'd been injured and refused to look back at Strawberry.

"You can't possibly afford it. Many eager farmers have saved their money for years to purchase the soil from me, and I think after holding on to it for so long, I'm finally willing to part with it."

Strawberry rose to her feet. "You're selling it? To _farmers_? May I ask why?"

"That really isn't your place of business, child."

"How much do you want for the Preservation Soil? I guarantee that I can raise enough money to purchase it from you."

Beatrice chuckled. "You naïve little girl! What has my sister been putting in your head? The price I demand is far greater than you can imagine."

Strawberry became annoyed with the princess' arrogance, and she disliked that she persistently called her "child" and "little girl". At her age, she felt the titles no longer applied to her.

She sternly placed her palms on the desk's surface but removed them when her action was taken as a form of disrespect. "_How much do you want_?" she asked again, this time very seriously.

The princess sighed and retrieved a pencil and paper, rapidly jotting figures and sliding the sheet over to Strawberry. Although she was afraid to look inside, Strawberry unfolded the note and nearly screamed at the numbers listed within it. According to the swirly cursive handwriting, she needed to raise three million dollars to even be eligible to participate in the auction, and the last time she checked, she did not have three million dollars.

"Once the bids go up, the value of the cure can exceed to much more than that," Beatrice pointed.

Strawberry dropped the paper in resignation. What was Princess Berrykin thinking? Beatrice was right: she couldn't possibly afford an amount such as that, and she'd be lucky enough to raise only one thousand dollars. She finally understood what Princess Berrykin told her before their departure, that she and her friends had only a year to save Berry Bitty City. How stupid she felt now.

One of the guards peeked his head through the glass entryway to Beatrice's study. "Your highness, it's about time that you wrap up the tour: it's getting fairly late."

"Very well," replied the princess.

Strawberry glanced at the great wall clock. The hour was past ten at night, but the tour seemed to be a matter of a few short minutes. She scanned the area, but the other contestants were nowhere in sight.

The aging security officer motioned that Strawberry needed to leave.

"If you are interested in seeing how auctions work, you're welcome to come to the one I will host in December," Beatrice stated, stopping her and handing her an elegantly decorated flier.

Strawberry nodded and accepted it, then walked towards the exit in a melancholic state.

"Oh, and girl, the next time you come to one of my events, don't start sneaking around the halls again," Beatrice added, and Strawberry whipped her head around in surprise before the guard directed her out of the room.

* * *

She re-entered the scene of the party, and at first glance she noticed that the number of guests was significantly fewer. Her friends were easier to spot, and they ran to her with their arms flailing about them.

"How did it go?!"

"What did she say?!"

"Did she show you the Preservation Soil?!"

Strawberry didn't reply to any of them, instead simply stating, "She somehow knows who we are and why we're here, but I haven't a clue how."

The girls gasped.

* * *

**Are you surprised with how quickly Beatrice caught on to Strawberry and the girls' plan? What do you think she was referencing when she said that she had saved Strawberry's life? I guess we'll just have to see...**


	9. The Competition Begins

**Author's Note: Here's chapter nine! There are more new characters and plot twists coming soon, so things are about to get really interesting... ~BlueVanilla79**

* * *

Strawberry picked up her cell phone and, referring to the sheet she'd been given, dialed Princess Berrykin's phone number. It had been two days since Princess Beatrice's birthday party, and the girls decided to relax for a day before they contacted Princess Berrykin with their news. They were unsure as to how Beatrice knew about the six of them and their plan, and they hoped that Princess Berrykin could provide them with some plausible answers.

The humming of the dial-tone echoed throughout the entire room once Strawberry switched her mobile device to speaker phone. Within a matter of a few seconds, the princess picked up the other end of the call.

"Girls?" she answered in her soft voice. She sounded nervous, as if she expected the girls to tell her the worst possible news. "Why did you wait so long to call me? Did something happen at my sister's party the other night?" she asked, and by the trembling tone of her voice, the girls could tell that she was bracing herself for what she feared they would relay to her.

Strawberry switched her phone to her other hand. "Um, no, everything went fine - well, mostly..." There was a lingering pause, so she continued, "I was chosen to go on the palace tour-"

"_And_?!" A muffled noise emitted from the receiver, and Strawberry assumed that the princess had inched closer to her phone in anticipation.

Strawberry gulped. "Well, Princess Beatrice knew who I am, but I don't understand how she knew. All throughout the party, she wouldn't stop watching me and the girls, and during the tour she asked me if I remembered her and immediately knew that we were in pursuit of the Preservation Soil."

The princess groaned and had apparently slapped her palm to her forehead; she muttered harsh words under her breath, much to the girls' surprise, and released an exasperated sigh. "Oh dear, this is worse than I expected. I didn't think she would remember."

The girls exchanged confused glances. "What do you mean?"

There was another long pause on the phone, for the princess didn't utter another word.

"Princess Berrykin?"

"Beatrice knew you girls when you were infants, but I did not think she would recognize you all since she hasn't seen you in nearly twenty years. I feel like a fool for thinking she wouldn't remember you.''

The flooding of thoughts filled Strawberry's mind, each one nagging her the longer her many questions remained unanswered. "When we were...babies?" she carefully asked, and immediately began to wonder about her seemingly non-existent parents. Had they really been gone ever since she was still in diapers?

"Yes, but she left before she even had a chance to get to know you. I'm surprised that she bothered to acknowledge you."

Strawberry inched closer to the speaker. "But where did her departure leave you? You couldn't have been more than fourteen when she left, and she probably wasn't much older than you. Didn't she care how you felt?"

Princess Berrykin hesitated. "She didn't care about my well-being," she bluntly stated. "I only had you all, but you were more than I could ever need."

_But what about our_ _parents?! Where are they? _Strawberry wanted to shout, but she refrained from doing so because she knew the topic was forbidden to discuss. But how long did she have to subject to this mutability? This was about her parents after all, and she felt she had a right to question anyone who knew anything about them. However, wasn't it coincidence how her and her friends' parents and Princess Berrykin's parents both experienced the same situation? They were nowhere to be found and seemed to have randomly vanished, and no one really knew anything about them. Perhaps if she simply hinted at the topic to the princess she would finally open up to her and tell her the information she'd been waiting to hear all her life.

"I've told you a countless number of times that that isn't open for discussion," was the princess' response. "Now we need to focus, girls. Please let me know that I have your full attention. This is serious."

Strawberry sighed, the refrain of hope residing in her heart being drowned out by negativity once again. "I'm sorry, your highness."

"It's okay, Strawberry. Frankly, I'm at a loss for words given our current situation. Did Beatrice mention anything else before you left?"

"She invited me to the auction she's holding for the Preservation Soil this winter."

A crashing sound emitted from the princess' end of the line like she'd just fallen out of her chair. Then there was the sound of rustling papers and finally an alarming cry. "This is not good!"

"_What_? What isn't good?"

"If my sister publicly announced that the cure exists, everyone is bound to be after it now. And there is one man who's been after it even before anyone else ever knew it existed."

Strawberry held her phone closer. "Who?"

"_Pieman_."

Plum scrunched up her face. "_Who_?''

"He's a wealthy businessman as well as a successful bakery owner. He pestered my family for years trying to convince us to sell him the Preservation Soil, but we'd always refused him. I felt sorry for the poor man, for he was of the less fortunate at the time, but I knew better than to trust him. He warned that he would return and not leave without the soil, and at this rate, I'm starting to believe that he may be capable of doing so."

Plum dashed to the kitchen to power on her computer that was sitting on the counter. She opened the search engine and typed the specified name into the tab, and instantaneously, the laptop's display revealed numerous photos of a middle-aged man. One shot depicted him shaking hands with one of the officials of the surrounding towns while another showed him displaying a large plaque on his desk. But no matter what image he was in, he always kept the same grave look on his face, and his eyes were like a dark ocean, with the deepest hue of blue that was inhumanly possible. They were penetrating to look at, but at the same time, they were hard to ignore.

Princess Berrykin resumed, "I advise you to steer clear of this man and anyone affiliated with him, girls; he's as crooked as that mustache of his. With that being said, I recommend you to go ahead and start searching for jobs - the sooner you start, the better." And with a few final exchanges of goodbyes, the princess ended the conversation with the click of her receiver.

Plum turned away from her computer. "Great, so now what are we supposed to do? That pie guy or whoever he is doesn't look like he's very welcoming to competitors," she said.

"Let's not worry about him right now; we need to keep our eyes on what's most important so we can go home soon. Like the princess suggested, we need to start earning some income." Strawberry momentarily returned to her usual leadership-like state, pointing her index finger in the air and thus relieving the other girls, who wished to have their leader back for the longest time.

Strawberry slid the apartment keys off the counter. "I guess the best way to job-hunt is to explore the city a bit. Are you guys coming with?"

As their response, the others seemed to back away from her, leaving Orange as her only participant.

"We'll just stay here and do a little, um, research to see if we can find anything. I might be able to contact some boutiques, well, if they're around," Raspberry replied, speaking in her partial indecisive manner and rambling a little more about her dream to work with top fashion designers.

Blueberry lifted a newspaper from their trash can. "I've come to find that newspapers often contain many occupational opportunities, but it's a pity that no one seems to read them anymore."

Strawberry jokingly rolled her eyes at her friend's inquisitive response, then headed to the door with Orange. "I guess it's just the two of us, then."

* * *

Strawberry and Orange traveled the never-ending path of the sidewalk, stepping over its cracks and abnormal lumps while avoiding being hit with empty coffee cups and other garbage that drivers threw out their windows. The day was bright and sunny which lifted their spirits, and they swerved around the other pedestrians who carried briefcases.

"So how are you holding up, kid?" Orange asked, lightly nudging Strawberry on her shoulder.

"I'm fine. Why do you ask?"

"I've seen how you've felt pressured with things lately."

"In what ways?"

"For one thing, your hands."

Strawberry folded her arms to hide her unsightly scars.

"And you seem as if something is really bothering you. I understand that you're worried about Berry Bitty City, but is something else bothering you?"

Strawberry bit her bottom lip. "No - I'm fine, really. I've had these nightmarish dreams lately, but they're starting to go away."

Unconvinced, Orange peered at her with suspicion, so Strawberry straightened her posture and flashed Orange a pearly white smile. Believing her, Orange returned it. "That's a girl! I don't like to see you down: it pretty much has an effect on all of us when you are."

Strawberry's smile faltered, the thought again registering in her mind that she was her friends' power outlet. When she was enthusiastic, they fed off her optimism and projected the same attitude in return, but in the moments when she was disconcerted, her mood impacted everyone. Someone had to lead and assure the girls that everything was going to be all right, and if she didn't fill that role, who would? She discovered that she couldn't allow herself to be upset in order keep the peace with her friends, so even though she was sick out of her mind with worry, she consumed an unhealthy overdose of sleep, and she began to undergo the itching infection of her cuts, she had to pretend that her life was nothing but smiles and gummy bears.

On the other hand, in all aspects she felt like a tattered rag, crumbled and beaten by its ruthless owners who thought nothing more than to spit and step on it, but in outward appearance she was a brilliant compass, polished with care and reflecting assurance to its inspectors through its accurate directions.

"You and the others don't have to worry about me. What I've been dealing with is nothing, really; I'm sure that I'll feel better once I adjust to these new surroundings."

"Positive?"

"Positive."

As a token of relief, Orange grinned, and it was that simple gesture that Strawberry desperately tried to evoke from her friends: a sign that they felt safe, secure, and most importantly, hopeful.

The two teenagers explored parts of Berry Big City that otherwise would have remained unknown to them had it not been for the handy virtual map they had installed on their phones. They passed shops, street corners, and more shops, but neither of the locations presented eager store owners who were looking to hire any new employees. The humid breeze clung to the girls' skin as a piece of tape would a sheet of paper, and the afternoon sun reached their throats and caused them to be exceptionally filled with thirst. The stores surrounding them had electric fans as their air conditioning, but Orange pointed to an interesting-looking hamburger restaurant that she supposed would provide a better cooling experience with its refreshing-looking beverages and outdoor ceiling fans. And so she and Strawberry trudged down the block in pursuit of this newfound location, avoiding the litter that trashed the walkways.

They sat at one of the few unoccupied tables posted along the outside of the building; the area in itself wasn't the ideal location to relax, but at the time what mattered most was having a shade from the never-ceasing heat. Almost as soon as they seated themselves, though, a teenaged boy who looked about three years their junior exited the building and entered the porch, notebook and pencil in hand.

"What can I get you ladies on this fine afternoon?" he asked, readying his writing hand.

Strawberry informed him that she didn't wish to order anything, for she needed to spare her money, but the boy insisted that orders were on the house for any newcomers to the well-established restaurant. She consented to iced water for she and Orange, and the boy went back inside and returned shortly afterwards with the two drinks.

When he did, however, another employee of _Berry Ben's Burgers _also exited, but she appeared to be getting fired. She held a single cardboard box, and a frog man with a wash towel slung over his shoulder shouted at her from the doorway.

"It's employees like you that give my restaurant such a bad name!" he shouted with hateful vehemence, and the young girl wiped her eyes and backed away.

"Aw man, he can't have fired Clementine!" The waiter jogged to the scene, and Strawberry and Orange watched him to get an idea as to what was going on.

According to the boss and his movements, the girl deemed Clementine had indeed been laid off, and the frog man placed a _now hiring _sign in one of the glass windows.

Strawberry jumped from her seat, wasting her drink in the process; this was her chance, her one opportunity to go ahead and get a job to start receiving a pay check to go towards the growing expenses of her home. She felt sorry for the girl who'd just been laid off, but she had more important matters on her hands.

She sprinted to the entrance, Orange warily trailing her, and she managed to reach the owner before he returned to the kitchen. "I would like to apply for a job!" she abruptly proclaimed, and he turned around, thus causing the crease in his already wrinkled forehead to deepen.

"Excuse me?"

"I wish to earn a position in your restaurant, sir."

"I'm going to need to see some paperwork before I can just hire you." He wiped his perspiring face with the rag.

"I don't have a résumé prepared, but I assure you that I'm fit for the job - I've been baking for years."

The employer sighed as a fresh set of customers flooded his business. He looked back at Strawberry: the girl appeared trustworthy, and with the radiance she gave off, she was sure to bring in more profits for his business. "Oh, all right, but I need to see an application before I can give you a permanent position. Quince, give her a quick tour of the kitchen so she can get started. And miss, grab that apron off the counter and put it on," concluded the boss, and he disappeared into the back.

Quince led her to the hidden kitchen. "Well, that was sudden. So what's your name?"

"It's Strawberry. Strawberry Shortcake."

"Nice to meet you, Strawberry. My name's Quince Watercress, but as your new fellow co-worker, you can just call me Quince."

"It's nice to meet you then, Quince. How long have you been working here?"

"I initially started last year as a summer job, but I decided to come back this year so I can have a little extra cash in my pocket."

Strawberry nodded in response, then placed her hand on the counter. "So who is Clementine?"

"One of my friends from school. I thought it would be an awesome idea for us to work at the same place, so I was like 'hey, Clem, you should totally work at _Berry Ben's Burgers_,' but I guess I shouldn't have pressured her."

"What happened?"

"My boss hated her because she didn't keep up with her tasks, and the customers complained. But hey - I guess it was meant to be, 'cause you're here now, right?"

"Yeah, perhaps..."

Quince glided his hand across the surface of the counter. "I think it would be great to own a place like this one day. She's a beaut, isn't she?"

Strawberry scanned the area. Aside from the filthy refrigerator and dingy appliances, the restaurant was pretty decent.

"Um, sure it is. You look like you're a committed worker, so I'm sure that you can have a restaurant like this or better if you believe in yourself."

"You really think so? How can you tell?"

"Just trust me on this one." She wasn't lying, for the instinct to predict that was there, but she just didn't know how. When she was younger, she thought she remembered Princess Berrykin telling her that she had a gift for that sort of thing, to be able to sense things that hadn't happened yet, but she wasn't certain if she was just intuitive or if she really had a special ability. However, most of it came in dreams.

He cocked his head to the side. "You're not from around here, are you?"

"Um... how do you know?"

"Just by how polite you are; your accent is different, too."

"Oh. I didn't think I spoke any differently from anyone else."

"Yeah, it's pretty evident." He mimicked how some of the Berry Big City citizens spoke, over-emphasizing syllables and dramatizing most of his words, which made Strawberry laugh.

"Okay, okay, I think we should get started with the tour before the owner catches us."

Quince pointed to multiple corners of the kitchen, giving a brief description of each. "Okay, so the hamburger patties are in the freezer over there, and the fries and buns are stored in that pantry in the corner. Condiments are in the cabinets, and you should grab dishes from the racks right there. Got it?"

"I think so," Strawberry replied, tying her hair into a messy bun.

"I guess you're all set, then. You are familiar with cooking fast food, aren't you?"

"I believe I am."

Strawberry grabbed a handful of frozen patties and placed them on the grill, and within an instant, he already had to correct her. He informed her that she first needed to coat the food in a thick layer of grease that gave it its "trademark taste," and directed her to basically soak everything in the fatty liquid before she cooked it. Strawberry was utterly disgusted by the procedure and had vowed to never eat fast food again, but she had to fight the urge to cook in her own techniques if she were to keep this newfound job of hers.

The food came out looking delicious yet inwardly disgusting, but Strawberry was proud of herself in that she managed to keep up with the ever growing number of customers that came through the doors. Surprisingly, she allowed herself to relax for the first time in months, and she could feel the difference it made both physically and mentally. Perhaps things _were _going to turn out for the better; she sensed that they would, and she smiled to herself as she washed the food particles off her hands and arms.

* * *

Orange Blossom stuck her hands in her capri pants pockets. Since Strawberry had gotten a job at the restaurant, she didn't know what to do with herself and eventually just decided to leave. And after walking all that way back to the street of their complex, she found herself trying to obtain a job at the convenience store, which wasn't what she wanted to pursue, but managing a store was one of the few things she was ever good at. Well, unless extreme pogo-sticking counted.

So there she was, waiting for the manager to come out the supply room and looking at air fresheners to pass the time.

"I don't think she'll like that scent," said a voice a few feet away, but she didn't look to see who it was.

"She'll probably like the smell of a freshly mowed lawn, then. Or baby's breath?" spoke another voice.

Orange crinkled her nose in disgust. Obviously the two strangers weren't very familiar with choosing the right air freshener scents. Out of instinct, she picked up a handful of them and handed them to the individuals when she heard one of them mention something about vanilla salt.

"Sorry, I couldn't help but overhear your conversation; these scents should suffice if you're looking for something with a pleasant smell," she explained.

"Well, thank you, miss," said the first one, and he and his partner went to the checkout aisle.

As they left, Orange turned her attention back to the doors of the supply room, but the manager still hadn't returned. She checked her watch: it was past two, and she had already lollygagged through the entire store in the forty-five minutes that she'd been waiting around. When the employer still didn't come to meet her after another five minutes, she grew impatient and decided to leave the store.

She was about to cross the street when she spotted the same two people she'd helped just a little distance off, both of whom seemed to be waiting for her. The road was clear and she began to cross it as quickly as she could, but they jogged towards her and stopped her.

"Miss, wait!"

She glanced over her shoulder. "Y-yes?"

"There's someone who wants to meet you." The one who'd spoken looped his arm around hers and led her to a limousine parked beside the street; she was wary as to what was going on but had consented.

A glossy black window rolled downwards, and someone peeked her head through the opening.

"Hello, dear," she said, and Orange became aghast.

Princess Beatrice opened the door and extended her hand to Orange.


	10. A Vile Mistake

**Happy New Year! A new year means a new chapter, so I hope you all like it! ~BlueVanilla79**

* * *

Shielding her face with her hands and arms, she ducked to avoid the blinding flashes of the paparazzi's cameras, or rather, manipulators. The electric blue lights almost seemed to burn when they touched her skin, forcing upon her vision an obscured view that looked like that of an old film, skipping frames from here and there.

"Smile, Cherry!"

"Cherry, over here!"

"Come on, Cherry, don't hide!"

These voices echoed in her ears, impossible to drown out. They were an avalanche, readying themselves to tackle her at any given moment; the incessant cries of fans were a broken siren, screaming out for an eternity.

This was the life that Cherry lived on a daily basis, only in different locations with different groups of people. The cycle was the same: wherever she went, no matter what time or place, these people would show up and plague her with their questions, worries, and unreasonable requests, and she would have to cope with this peskiness of theirs until she was able to safely escape to her car and attempt to secretly drive home.

And to be honest, she was tired of it all. Yes, having many supporters was very much a wonderful thing indeed, but the longer she stayed in the industry, she learned that being famous was more of a depressant than a stimulant. Some of the individuals who claimed that they were supportive of Cherry would be the masterminds behind whatever horrible rumor that was recently spread about her, and through a number of experiences, Cherry had learned this lesson the hard way.

Cherry was whisked inside the swivel doors by a set of hands that, shooing the on-lookers away, pulled her into a nearby elevator.

"Miss Jam, you have got to stop walking in public by yourself - it's much too dangerous!" said her publicist.

"That's why I wore a disguise this time, Vivianne."

"Well, it certainly didn't work."

Cherry looked down at her slacks: she'd put on a pair of yoga pants and a baggy t-shirt, not forgetting a pair of shades to conceal her eyes, yet the public still recognized her as the pop sensation Cherry Jam. Considering that she'd always cared about her appearance, she thought that she would look like a commoner in this new set of clothes.

"I thought it would," she replied, and Vivianne pressed the buttons on the keypad.

"Doll, I do hope that you remembered to bring a change of clothes."

Cherry felt her sides to make sure she'd worn her actual outfit underneath her camouflage; however, she felt nothing but bare skin and recalled that she was supposed to bring her other outfit with her from her car. She hadn't had time to because the obnoxious paparazzi had distracted her.

"Uh-oh," she managed.

Vivianne gently placed a hand to her forehead. "Oh my. Cherry, _really_?"

"Don't panic, I can fix this." Cherry removed her baseball cap and turned it forwards. "Better?" she asked, slightly giggling to herself. It wasn't like it mattered, anyway: she was going to last place that she wanted to be at the moment.

Her publicist rolled her eyes. "Oh Cherry, I've always wondered about you."

* * *

She was led into the headquarters of the _Berry Glitz and Glamour _network, then welcomed by a long table of staff members who all acknowledged her with the cheesiest, most artificial welcomes that she'd ever seen. They bounced up and down in their seats with a considerable amount of enthusiasm, but she knew that it was all just an act. In actuality, they were probably some of the messiest people in the industry.

The head of the staff was a stout woman with a ginormous pair of glasses settling on the bridge of her nose who had applied more makeup than her face could handle. She dressed in all sorts of crazy colors and designs and had but a single earring in her ear, apparently to keep up with the latest trends, despite her age.

She shook Cherry's hand in all sincerity, and Cherry knew better than to trust her, but she returned a sly smile. She suddenly became glad that she experienced her little wardrobe malfunction, that she'd show up to the interview as if she'd cast her cares into a furnace. If she pretended that she was a complete slob and disrespected the board of members, there was a ninety-nine percent chance that her reality show would be cancelled, and she could be released from her boss's lingering threat.

"Welcome, Cherry! Please, take a seat."

Cherry sat at the very end of the meeting table, propping her feet on its surface and folding her arms behind her head. Attempting to make her audience flinch, she sniffed her armpit and scrunched her nose at its nonexistent odor. However, the chubby woman's smile only intensified.

"Cherry, I must say that we are most excited that you've finally decided to accept our offer. I must ask, what made you decide to change your mind?" asked the head, Rhonda Speckleberry.

"Yeah, well, I thought it would be a great way to make some more money, you know what I mean?" Cherry slouched more evidently and started picking with her toes after she removed her right shoe. Some of the other members appeared a bit sickend and dissatisfied with her answer, which was the response she'd hoped for.

Another of the members clasped her hands together. She cleared her throat. "Well... you certainly have a different persona when you're off stage, don't you, Cherry?"

"Sure thing. Everyone always sees me as this prim and proper pop star, but I think it's time that I reveal the real me, don't ya think?" she thickened her southern accent, intentionally replacing some of her words with slang. At that moment, she tapped her throat and managed to release a drawn out wet-sounding belch, which was such an awful noise that some of the staff scooted their swivel chairs away from her. She grinned with pleasure.

A clearing of someone else's throat echoed behind her shoulder, and she turned to see her boss looming over her with a death stare engraved upon his face, Vivianne, who stood by the door, doing the same.

Cherry internally cowered to herself: she had to admit to herself that she was sometimes terrified of her boss, who had the power to ban her from his company like a needle frays a thread. But now was the time that she had a say so in things, she mentally decided. It was time that she stood up to him, the individual she'd worked with nearly her entire career.

Mr. Pearce turned her chair so her legs would fall off the table, then took a seat to her left and placed his briefcase on the pine wood table. "I apologize for being late," he began. "Have I missed anything important?"

"No, no, not at all. I was just getting to know Cherry," replied Rhonda.

He cast Cherry another glare. "Yes, about that, I am _so _sorry if she's caused you any trouble. She's been under a lot of stress lately."

"No! There's no need for that! She is such a darling! Cherry, if we can just discuss a few legal matters, you're hired!" Rhonda clapped her plump, soft hands in delight, the friction of her bracelets creating a clinking noise.

Cherry raised her eyebrows in horror.

"You are absolutely perfect for the reality show, doll! A successful pop artist who has a side of her life that she hides from the public - _genius_!"

Mr. Pearce appeared relieved, but Cherry was mortified. What was supposed to be her trick on the company had a boomerang effect on her, and now she was the fool of the joke? Even after she acted like a pig and an idiot so she wouldn't get hired?

"No, I was lying to you! This isn't the real me, honest!" she cried, and removed the cap from her head.

"Even better! I can see it now: Cherry Jam, a proven liar. Dear, if you can just sign this contract and accept these conditions and our offer for your pay, I promise you that we will make your dreams come true."

Cherry was prepared to jump over the table and strangle that woman's short neck, but Mr. Pearce stopped her midway and placed his hand over her mouth while she shouted derogatory things. "She'll accept the offer!" he stated, but Cherry said otherwise through muffled hums.

A thick stack of papers slid towards her direction as well as a fountain pen, and after Cherry had regained control of her tongue and stopped screaming into her boss's hand, she was prompted to look over the information at hand.

She skimmed through all one hundred-something pages of the contract and wondered how in the world she was expected to read all of the fine print in its too-small-to-read writing, then flipped to the last page, which required her signature. Above the line was a negotiable set of numbers for her pay check, and they tempted her to go ahead and sign her name.

If she received _that much _just from shooting a television show, she'd have more than enough to pay her expenses and still have some left over to do what she pleased with it, even though that was just the minimum for her pay. _Perhaps a reality show isn't as bad as you __thought_, her mind told her. _After all, you can live your life to a much higher degree than you did before,_ _and all of that just for letting a few cameras follow you around? Come on, Cherry, have I not taught you better? Your friends will understand: they always do, and you know it. Go on, pick up the pen._

Cherry slowly picked up the fountain pen. The back of her mind told her the opposite of what the former told her, but she knew that if she didn't comply with the show, she would be fired and possibly wind up on the streets. And now that Berry Bitty City was gone, too, she couldn't go back to her old teaching job, although it didn't pay much to begin with.

With the fountain pen in her left hand, she hesitantly signed her name in the margin. The black ink dried with permanence, binding her to the contract. After giving her signature, Cherry felt indifferent about her current situation and her life as a whole. Had she really made the right decision, choosing fame and fortune over a normal life? No matter what she thought at the moment, there was no turning back for her at that point.

The staff clapped in unison, and Rhonda stood from her chair. "Congratulations, Cherry! The only thing left for you to do is to decide what you want to call your show, and we'll take care of the rest."

Cherry was passed a sheet of paper with a list of titles, and she circled the one that stood out to her the most: _Cherry's Jam_. She forced a half smile while the others continued to celebrate, but she couldn't help but wonder deep inside if her whole life was just a big mistake.

* * *

The meeting concluded, and Cherry paced back to her car with Vivianne and Mr. Pearce when she was instantly attacked by paparazzi and half-crazed fans yet again. This time gossip reporters rushed in as well, nearly smashing their microphones into her face as they tried to nose into her business, but Cherry only replied to a couple of their questions with a simple "yes" or "no" because that's what she'd been trained to do.

Cherry reached her prius and unlocked it while people continued to snap pictures of her from a distance.

"Cherry, I don't know what you were thinking with that little game you were playing, but it seemed to work," said Vivianne.

"Yes; what on earth were you thinking?" added Mr. Pearce.

Cherry paused. "I did what you wanted, so can you at least act happy about it?" she snapped, really not supplying a proper answer to either of their questions.

She started her engine and left the two of them standing on the side of the street.

* * *

The car ride was a very long one. The arctic air conditioning froze Orange's skin, and through the pimply goosebumps and the persistent hiccuping, she fought with all her might not to scream for help.

She tapped her foot and yanked on her seatbelt in a way that looked like she was choking herself inbetween involuntarily hyperventilating, her chest going up and down, up and down. And all the while, the princess, or rather her captor, sat still with her posture perfectly aligning the back of her seat, her delicately aggressive hands folded across her lap. She still never ceased to keep her nose in an upturn to retain her pride, but the deadness of the air didn't seem to bother her.

How did she get herself into this mess? All she did was help those two men with product recommendations, and now she was suddenly the princess' prisoner?

She should've known to bite her tongue - she'd always had a problem for that sort of thing. While Strawberry was the strong, wise leader, Blueberry the brainiac, Lemon the artistically creative one, Plum the jokester, Raspberry the compassionate one, Cherry the charmer, and Huck, well, was just Huck, she felt that she didn't fit into a specific category. Or did she? Everyone always looked at her as the audacious one who wasn't afraid to speak her mind. That was it. She was outspoken, a bit too much for her liking, and she'd gotten herself into quite a bit of trouble because she couldn't control the impulse to always make a remark. To think that she wouldn't be in this situation had she not eavesdropped on those two security guards. However, how was she supposed to know that they were the princess' henchmen? She was only trying to help.

Her eyes became glassy and she now rocked back and forth, releasing a squeaky yelp.

"Goodness, child, calm down! You're acting like you're going to an execution!" Beatrice finally yelled.

Orange sat back, untangling the seatbelt from around her neck. "Sorry."

"It's quite all right."

Orange waited with impatience for the princess to explain why she had to be subjected to going on a car ride with her, but Beatrice only resumed her previous activity of sitting back in her seat while casually observing the city through her window. Orange turned away and prayed that whatever she was being called for was for good reason, but if the princess herself issued a meeting with her, she couldn't help but think that the outcome wouldn't be good.

Feeling her weight shifting backwards, she raised her head to discover that the limousine drove onto a long, winding path that only spiraled upwards and past those dreadful iron gates that she'd hoped she never had to re-enter.

The princess' palace? What kind of trouble was she in if Beatrice chose her home, of all locations, to take her? Whatever the reason, she did not have a good feeling about it.

The driver parked the vehicle under a bamboo awning, and just as Beatrice had extended her hand to Orange prior to her initial invitation to talk with her, she performed the same action in which she led her out of the limousine. In fact, it was more of a forceful gesture than a choice; when the princess initially invited Orange after she'd exited the general store, Orange came up with an excuse so she wouldn't have to go, but upon Beatrice's orders, she was forced to climb aboard against her will. And now a half-hour later, she was back at the estate that she'd just visited the other night, but she saw it in a different light this second time around. Most of the decorations from the birthday party were missing, and the daylight revealed parts of the estate that she hadn't noticed before.

Beatrice wove her arm around Orange's, and even though the princess wore sleeves, her skin felt like a popsicle, aiding in the goosebumps forming on Orange's arm.

She led her along a stone pathway, her heels clacking against the ground as a row of staff lined the way and greeted her with a monotonous "Welcome home, your majesty." One of the butlers opened the door for the princess and her special guest, and in an instant, the bustling of several more employees occupied Orange's train of thought.

Berrykin maids vigorously scrubbed the marble floors with large sponges, wiping their brows in the process, while others of them scurried down the halls with fresh laundry and bathroom supplies. The taller of the workers gathered streamers off the floor and from the walls, and still a number of others handled the dishes, most of which they sterilized or threw into the trash. Vacuum cleaners roared throughout the entire palace, blaring out any noise that could otherwise try to audibly compete.

The princess explained that they were still cleaning up after the party and stated that the process could sometimes extend to about a week, then motioned that Orange follow her up one of the four optional staircases to a little sitting area.

The palace was just as Strawberry had described it, Orange realized, with more chandeliers than one could count, expensive china in glass cabinets, and extravagant paintings by some of the most renowned artists to top everything off. It was quite an admirable home to live in, but didn't Beatrice grow lonely every now and then?

"The mansion was well-lit, but there were still those dark areas that the light couldn't reach," Strawberry had described once they'd returned home from the party. "And if you look closely, you'll notice an old painting of Beatrice and Princess Berrykin. Some of the colors are faded, but what strikes me as odd is that Princess Berrykin's face is scratched out of the picture, as if someone took a blade and stabbed her image until it wasn't there anymore." This particular detail sent horrible chills down Orange's spine, and while she tried her best to avoid looking into the crevices of the ceiling to spot that haunting painting, she found her eyes searching for it anyway. Apparently it was well-hidden, for she couldn't spot it at all.

The princess sat on the loveseat directly across from her with expectant eyes. Orange only blinked once, then staged a cough into her fist. She darted her face away from Beatrice, admiring the scenic views that lay beyond the window that replaced one of the walls, then took notice of a small pot of tulips sitting on the lamp table beside her. Most of their petals had withered away, and it made her sad, reminding her much of her deceased home when one of the petals hit the ash gray soil.

"So," the princess began, "I assume that it was out of place of me to bring you here so suddenly, but I can assure you that I did it with good intentions, so you can stop looking all tense, child."

Orange breathed a sigh of relief, her prayer answered, and managed to shift from her stiff position, but speech-wise, all she could muster was a stuttered "Okay" inbetween a hiccup. She always hiccuped when she was nervous, ever since she was very young.

Beatrice pursed her thin lips and studied her. "Why do you act so fearful of me, dear? I want to be your friend," she coaxingly said, but the sweet cornsyrup of her voice didn't convince Orange that she was being truthful. It was unlike Orange to act shy, but she brought her knees to her chest and hid half of her face with them, even though this action wasn't very proper of her to do in front of a ruler.

The princess sighed with irritation and shooed away a maid who questioned her about which curtains she wanted strung in the living room. "I'm most fortunate that you and your friends could come to my birthday party this year," she tried again, this time making the tone of her voice a little more realistic. "Did you have fun?"

Orange solemnly nodded.

"Good, then. Have you yet had your eighteenth birthday?"

"Uh, yes, your highness. I did back in May, actually." Orange retracted her knees some, though she clearly still exhibited an invisible shield of defense. Maybe Beatrice _was_ telling the truth; maybe she wasn't in trouble after all. "How were you able to keep up with my age after all these years?" she added.

"Do excuse me for that. The redhead must have told you about our little encounter the other night, has she not?"

"She did - erm, your majesty."

A smirk spread across Beatrice's narrow face. "Ah, I see. What else has she relayed to you?"

"She said that you knew us several years ago," Orange replied.

"That is correct; I recall seeing you when you were still down here," she placed her hand close to the floor, approximately a foot-and-a-half from the ground, "but _my_, how you have grown up since then. The years just seem to fly by." She motioned with her hand to create a swatting gesture to emphasize her point. "So tell me more about your home town. It must have changed significantly since I've last seen it."

Orange seemed to relax at the mention of Berry Bitty City, that is, when she thought only of the fond memories in the town that she shared with her friends, kindled with the daily adventures they shared in the quaint area. She couldn't quite put into words the way that it made her feel inside, that warm, fuzzy feeling that made her want to travel back in time to relive the excitement, the nostalgia.

She described to the princess in great detail what a typical day in Berry Bitty City was like, almost as if she were actually still there. Where every thing was placed in her store she relayed, the local post office being stationed in the back and the cash register sitting at a perfect forty-five degree angle. The joy that overcame her whenever her friends came to visit, who felt like sisters to her, and the tranquil evenings they'd spend together after they'd finished working, lying by the berry patch as the faint breeze tickled their eyelashes. The overall serenity and the sweet, crisp scent of the orchards and honeysuckle that were within the town, in high contrast to Berry Big City's foul odors and lack of sanitation. The fact that everyone cared for one another and that they could always turn to each other for help, no matter what the situation.

The princess leaned in closer as Orange spoke, gently folding her eyelids like she was experiencing what was described, like she wanted to partake in this paradise that Orange told her about. She seemed to calm and didn't think to interrupt once as Orange continued to speak, lasting for what seemed about a half hour.

But as Orange's story progressed and she advanced to the past year, her mood began to darken when she told Beatrice of the troubles that began to threaten the town and the lack of income as a result of them. She cut herself short after she'd mentioned having to move to Berry Big City, how their dreams had shattered concerning the saving of their town.

Beatrice sat up, clearly out of her trance now, and looked at Orange with newfound concern. She appeared worried, even if it was only the slightest bit, smoothing the tawny bangs covering her forehead and assuring herself that her tiara was still in tact. She seemed indecisive at first, but then she said, "Well, perhaps we can change that."

Orange perked up in her seat. "What do you mean?"

Beatrice pressed a buzzer on one of the bracelets on her wrist, Orange, who otherwise would have never been able to tell the device from an ordinary piece of jewelry, intently observing it. One of the guards from outside arrived within a matter of a few seconds.

"Yes, your highness?" he inquired.

"Take me to the chamber," she ordered.

The guard looked from the princess to Orange. "Are you sure, your majesty?" He didn't seem very trusting of Orange.

"Yes, I'm sure."

"What's going on?" Orange asked, alarmed, but Beatrice only shushed her, then tied a scarf around her eyes and instructed her to get the small plant from the side table.

* * *

She could only feel the slippery floor beneath her and a pair of hands on her shoulders; aside from that, she was completely blinded and tried to trust her ears for a sense of direction.

She heard more vacuum cleaners and dusters as she passed, but eventually the noises seemed very distant, and she couldn't hear anything but the eerie echoes that trailed behind her.

Loud cellars opened and closed and she heard locks, keys, and alarm systems being disabled and reset until finally the firm hands on her shoulders who she assumed were Beatrice's halted her. Orange felt the hard knot on the back of her head being untied, and the shield that once blocked her vision was removed.

She had been led into a dark room with a single large spotlight inserted into the ceiling, and all else was blacked out except for the glowing security monitors and observation cameras.

Orange turned a full three hundred sixty degree circle before she asked, "Where am I?"

"You're here to see the Preservation Soil, dear," Beatrice simply stated, as if the matter wasn't a big deal.

In shock, Orange nearly dropped the plant she was holding but then remembered that it was there and dropped her jaw instead. "_The Preservation Soil_?!" she repeated, and stumbled a bit.

Beatrice nodded and directed her towards a huge glass case that was the size of a queen bed and as deep as a bathtub. The container was covered with a thick glass lid, and she guided Orange a few feet closer to the compartment and pointed downwards. Orange did just that, and when she did her eyes widened with such astonishment that she strained them.

A cerulean substance lay in the tub, but it wasn't just any typical substance; this one sparkled with what mimicked tiny gems, and a faint white glow emitted from it as a whole. It had the texture of garden soil, but it couldn't have been dirt - soil was _brown_, not blue. The dirt-like concoction spun on mills, falling over itself like mini ocean waves and back into the contents of the rest of the tub.

Orange began to press her hands on the glass after she'd sat the plant down, but the guard snatched her by her wrist. "Don't touch that - it'll burn your skin off."

Frightened, Orange pulled away. "Is this the soil?" she questioned the princess.

"Yes, indeed. Do you wish to see how it works?"

Orange eagerly nodded like a child.

With a remote-like device, the guard opened the lid of the tub, and the effects of the soil were all the more marvelous when he did. It hit Orange in the face with its bright beams, and suddenly she smelled a sort of fresh fragrance that she had never smelled in her life, one that couldn't be described. If an individual were to describe it, though, the scent would have been said to smell of freshly picked flowers and berries, some of a different kind, unknown to man.

Beatrice retrieved the deceased tulips and a very tiny measuring spoon and diligently dipped it into the majestic soil. She hardly scooped any of it out, and at last she poured the cooking utensil's contents all over the poor plant's dirt. At first nothing occurred except that it now had a shimmery essence about it, but then Orange really saw what took place. The brown, paper-looking leaves buried themselves beneath the surface of the soil, and replacing them were newly formed leaves that sprouted and already produced flower buds.

Orange was mesmerized, delicately stroking her fingertips over the new leaves to see if they were real. She looked over her shoulder and into Beatrice's eyes. "Why are you showing me this?" she asked, almost in a whisper.

The princess gave her a wily smile. "I thought I'd just do something nice."

Orange observed the plant once more. "Can I keep it?" she quietly pleaded.

"Why, of course not!" Beatrice's voice boomed. "Do you realize how much this plant is worth now that it has been restored?" She began to put the supplies away, ensuring that she didn't waste one speck of the soil, took the plant from her, and the protective cover was closed.

Orange frowned. Didn't Beatrice tell her right before she took her to the chamber that there was something she could do for Berry Bitty City? Or was she imagining things?

"Can't you give me just a _teensy_ bit of the soil, your highness? Just enough to save Berry Bitty City?" she persisted a second time.

"Why, for someone to take it from you while you're heading home? I don't think so."

Orange became frustrated, and it showed by the vein that rose just above her left eyebrow. "Don't you care that me and my friends and _your sister _have somewhere to live? If we can just return home-"

"Ha! If it weren't for my sister screwing things up, you wouldn't even call Berry Bitty City home."

Orange snarled. "_Your highness_-"

"I'll tell you what: if you can tell me what your name is, I _may _consider changing my mind."

Orange looked at her dumbly. _Of course she knew what her name was_. "That's easy. It's Orange Blossom," she replied.

Beatrice burst out laughing. "Oh, wow! I don't know who she thinks she's fooling with these games she's playing!"

Orange only stared at her. Was something wrong with her psychologically, or was that just her personality? The princess' rapid mood shifts threw her off track: she'd gone from calm to downright hysterical in a matter of minutes. Was that a normal thing for her?

The princess collected herself from her fit of laughter. Orange contorted her face in anger. "Why are you laughing at me? My name _is_ Orange Blossom. What's so funny about that?" she clarified.

"Yes, sure, of course it is," the princess suppressed a few last chuckles, and the sarcasm in her voice was apparent. "Just tell me one more thing: where is my sister currently stationed?" Her tone was serious now.

Orange looked horrified. As much as Beatrice complained about Princess Berrykin, why would she bother to tell her where she lived?

"I- I can't say," she replied.

"Ah, as I suspected. Not a word to utter from that mouth of yours, I see. Typical! Why do you expect me to share all of this sensitive information of mine when you can't even tell me something as simple as where my sister lives?"

Orange began to step backwards when the princess moved closer to her.

"You all are just the same. You're nosy and intrusive yet so weak when you're confronted. The redhead acted just as you are now at the party, refusing to speak one word to me, yet I found her snooping through my desk. That's why I don't fall for those deceitful tricks of yours; you're conniving little pests, just like you always were and destined to be. I pity you."

At this point, Orange was fuming. She discovered that Beatrice had an even shorter temper than she had, and that just served as fuel to ignite her own. Her tongue burned with rage: how dare she insult she and her friends like that, and after they'd just met? Despite how angry she was now, she had to tame the fire that burned inside her. However, she just couldn't control it anymore.

"You know what, your 'highness'? Maybe we act like that because we've heard of what a ruthless person you can be! I'll admit, I was afraid of you at first, but I'm not anymore!" The last part was clearly a lie, for she still cowered when Beatrice approached her.

"Who told you that I'm ruthless? Was it Princess Berrykin?" Beatrice gave Orange the hawk's eye like she had at the celebration, and she stole the answer from her mind: _yes_.

"I see. Felix, take her away, I wish to be left alone."

"As you wish, your highness."

Before Orange could get a word in edgewise, the scarf was roughly tied back over her face, and when she tried to struggle free of his grip, he slung her over his shoulder while she screamed and shouted herself hoarse.

* * *

Sighing to herself, Blueberry tossed the thirtieth newspaper that she'd read that day onto a messy stack on the carpet. She'd been reading newspapers all day in search for a job, but none of them presented fields that would be easy for her to pursue. Most of them were too far away or just simply unrealistic, such as a volunteer sports announcer, and she did not have a strong enough voice to even bother applying.

On the other hand, Lemon and Raspberry paced back and forth in the tight space with their cell phones, contacting every salon and boutique around their portion of the city. To their dismay, not one of the businesses were looking to hire any new employees, so they, too, were about ready to give up.

Plum stayed in the same spot all day, sitting hunched over her computer by the island.

Blueberry stood from the deflating inflatable couch and nearly tripped over the mess she'd made. "Plum, have you found anything yet?"

"No, not yet," said the girl with the purple ponytail.

Blueberry went behind her and peeked at the screen, but Plum had minimized it just in time. "Hey, you're not looking for jobs," Blueberry accused. She swatted Plum's hand off the mouse and retrieved the page. "Dance videos? Really, Plum? You need to focus!"

"I know, I know, but I just miss dance _so_ much. All of this job hunting is exhausting."

"You haven't even searched for anything."

"Exactly. Just watching other people do it makes my head hurt."

Blueberry was about to give another one of her detailed lectures on why people obtain occupations, but before she could, Strawberry entered the apartment. Her hair was in a matted bun and she was covered in food particles and condiments, but she appeared cheerful and, despite her filthy state, plopped onto the couch with a pleasant sigh.

Blueberry spun around. "Oh, so you found a job?"

"Yep, at a hamburger restaurant. It only pays minimum wage, and I haven't officially gotten hired yet, but it was exhilarating to be able to cook again." She nestled into one of the pillows like she was on a fluffy cloud. Even though she appeared to have been overworked, she was grateful to have the opporunity to do what she loved again, even if it wasn't exactly the style that was her forte.

Lemon stuck out her bottom lip. "Aw, lucky! Raspberry and I can't seem to get through to anybody."

"Hey, has anyone seen Cherry? I thought she said she'd stop by tonight," mentioned Raspberry.

"She changed her mind and said that she'll stop by tomorrow." Strawberry stood when she realized she was smudging the furniture. "But I haven't heard from Orange, though. The last time I saw her was after I'd gotten hired."

"Maybe her new employers love her so much that they quit their jobs and let her take over their business," Plum joked.

Before anyone could interject, the front door slowly creaked open, and Orange Blossom emerged, her eyes wide and never once blinking, her lips chapped. The girls jumped in a panic.

"Orange, what happened to you?!" Strawberry took her by her shoulders and led her to the couch. "Blueberry, fix her a glass of water."

Orange sat motionless, and when she accepted the water she only let it dribble down her chin.

"Orange, you have to tell us what happened," Strawberry sternly repeated.

"I-I saw it. The Preservation Soil. And now I think the princess hates me. I said some things I shouldn't have."

Strawberry slapped her face into her palms, releasing an exasperated moan.


	11. The Announcement

**I'm back, and with another new chapter! Sorry I haven't posted in a while... Anyway, I'm considering writing a prologue for this story, but I'm not sure if I should because I'll have to rearrange the chapters. I really want to write one, though. If you're interested in reading one, just let me know. Okay, I'll let you read the chapter now. Hope you like it!**

* * *

After slipping one of her favorite cardigans over her white polka-dotted blouse and skirt, Blueberry Muffin rounded the corner to the connected living room and kitchenette. The day didn't call for any sort of formality, but sophisticated as she was, or wanted to be, that is, the blue-haired girl had insisted on dressing in her usual preppy attire. The air was still polluted with the drama that had ensued the previous night, and she was only reminded of it when she saw Orange sitting on the couch, her face buried deeply in a pillow.

In a dazed state, Orange had informed her friends that upon being kicked out of Beatrice's palace, she was dumped onto the street and forced to walk home. Beatrice's mansion was on the other side of town, and she hadn't any money to plea for a cab, so she had no choice than to do what she was commanded; she walked a long, long way, too, past the heavy traffic and alleyways, being chased by stray dogs that bore their teeth at her and wouldn't leave alone until she managed to climb over a tall, splintered fence. Random pedestrians only laughed and made jokes about her, not in the least offering her any assistance during her tiresome journey home. It wasn't until a generous couple spotted her that she climbed up those steps to her apartment, startling her friends.

Blueberry couldn't help but feel resentment towards the princess in sympathy for her friend. She was furious that Beatrice had been so horrible to her, as well as to Strawberry. And ever since Orange returned, she couldn't stop offering weepy apologies to her friends, that it was her fault that Beatrice was angry with her, that she should never speak again because she had such a big mouth. And in some ways, she was correct in doing so: perhaps she _had _spoken too much, and that's what triggered Beatrice's mood swings. But then again, even if she hadn't uttered a word, the princess would have found one way or another to manipulate her.

Orange's daschund Marmalade ran about the room, bouncing up and down in an attempt to cheer up her owner, but Orange only watched her through remorseful eyes, a single bitter tear gently gliding down the tan skin on her cheek. This depleted the dog's mood, for she whimpered and curled up in a corner.

In their apartment, the puppies grew to be quite a handful, and the fact that they were grown now didn't help in the least. They never sat still and yapped all day, so the girls didn't have a choice but to lock them into the walk-in closet. It was a cruel thing to do, yes, but they created so much noise and caused so many distractions and disruptions that that was the only viable option. Besides, animals weren't allowed in the complex, anyway. The girls had to disguise their pet carriers as luggage in order to sneak them inside in the first place. Since then, Marmalade was only released from the puppy prison in the pursuit of finding Orange's lost joy, and the only pet that could avoid the confinement was Strawberry's cat Custard, who lounged around the apartment all day, primarily on Strawberry's bed, and only meowed when she wanted something.

Blueberry offered Orange a reassuring pat on the back and stepped into the corner that was a kitchen's imposter, listening to Strawberry pour coffee beans into a pot. "Since when do you drink coffee? And the caffinated kind, at that," Blueberry inserted, picking up the container and reading its label.

"I couldn't sleep last night, and I'm so exhausted that I thought I would give it a shot," Strawberry replied. Blueberry cast her a questioning glance. "I'm fine," Strawberry whispered under her breath, trying to shoo her away. There was a _ding! _noise towards the entrance. "Oh, that's Cherry," she added. "Can you get the door?''

Blueberry grabbed the foggy door handle and was met with Cherry's all-too-familiar face, cheerful and free of blemishes, as usual. But something seemed off about her.

"Blueberry, hey!" she pulled the bookworm into a tight hug, cutting off Blueberry's blood circulation. Cherry smelled of costly cosmetics and hair scents. ''Gosh, it's been so long since we've been able to have a normal get-together. How are you?"

"I'm doing well, thanks," Blueberry replied, hugging her back and then pulling away.

Her waist-long hair flowing behind her, Cherry strode into the apartment but stopped short when she saw Orange's condition. "Orange, what's wrong?" she asked out of concern.

"She had a bad encounter with the princess yesterday, so she doesn't really want to speak." Strawberry took a sip of her coffee and instantly began to choke on it. "Needs more sugar," she croaked to herself, turning around.

"Yikes, that doesn't sound too good. Are you still searching for the Conservation Remedy?"

"It's called _Preservation Soil, _and yes, we are," Blueberry corrected her, "but at this point, I'm puzzled as to what our next step is. The princess clearly isn't going to give us the easy way out."

"Orange actually saw it, you know," Raspberry added when she and Lemon entered the room.

Cherry turned to face her. "Oh, wow - really? What does it look like?"

For the first time in hours, Orange sat up and spoke. Her eyes were still a twinge of red that made them look as if they'd been repeatedly poked, but their insistence on irritating her wasn't successful. "In texture it's like any old dirt, but instead it's _blue_. It glows and sparkles and stuff, too."

Strawberry wasted some of her drink on the counter. "Fiddlesticks!" she shouted, then mopped the sticky mess with a napkin.

"At least you'll know what it is if you ever find it," Cherry continued. She clasped her hands when Plum joined the rest of the group. "I have an important announcement to make.''

"What, did you and Caleb decide to patch things up?" Strawberry sipped her coffee once more, this time pleased with the results, while the others suppressed giggles.

Cherry became annoyed. "_No_," she stated, noting to never tell them about that experience again. She should have never brought up that jerk to them in the first place. "I'm...," she paused, "getting my own reality show."

The others' giggly expressions turned into those of surprise.

"Cherry, that's awesome!" Plum exclaimed.

Cherry perked her ears. "Really? I thought you'd all be upset."

"Why would we be upset? We're happy for you, Cherry!" Lemon picked up one of her hand mirrors and admired her reflection. "What isn't great about being on television and having a camera crew wait on you hand and foot?" The others laughed when she exaggerated poses.

Cherry smiled simply because she was grateful to have friends such as her own. She should have known that they would be supportive of her: they were like sisters to her, after all.

"I'm really proud of you, Cherry. Congratulations!" Strawberry gave her a side hug and glanced at the clock. "Oh, I need to head out: I have an interview with my boss today. Blueberry, another newspaper came this morning if you're interested in reading it." She gulped down the rest of her drink and left the apartment.

Blueberry found the paper, skimming through it like the others, and yet there still weren't any reasonable jobs within reach - wait, there _was_ one! One written in bold cursive handwriting that declared that a publishing company was looking for young, aspiring writers to become a part of their business. And she was just the right age, too, although hers was the minimum, but no worry: that would change in October.

She read the requirements, that the company was searching for intelligent, intellectual youth who were equipped with the necessary skills to become successful authors, but did she apply to those criteria? She'd always enjoyed reading, but writing was a whole other universe. However, she kept several journals with story ideas in them, so perhaps one of those would suffice. She'd always been fond of writing her own mystery stories, but she later learned through this procedure that she was plagiarizing the Patty Persimmon novels, which was an unforgivable crime in the literary world.

Cherry leaned over her shoulder. "You should apply for this, Blueberry, and maybe you can convince Huck to help you, too."

Blueberry lowered the paper and internally winced at the mentioned name. Since that dreadful kiss, if it could even be called that - it was more of a peck - she refrained from communicating with Huckleberry at all costs, and he seemed to avoid calling her all the same. She still regretted that they even did it in the first place and had brushed her teeth seven times when her friends weren't paying attention. She was still humiliated, and to go and try to revert to her and Huck's previous state of friendship seemed outrageous and much too soon. Perhaps thirty years from then would be a good time to speak to him. A hundred would be better.

But she couldn't ignore him forever. Of course she had a valid reason to not speak to him, but she probably hurt his feelings with the way she darted off like a missile, not even saying goodbye and giving him the silent treatment ever since. It was wrong of her, and she knew it. After being his best friend for so long, she couldn't just break off all ties with him because of that one stupid incident. Perhaps, just perhaps she could restore their friendship so they could put the whole thing behind them, but with every action comes consequences. The first step would be to somehow convince herself to visit him at his pet shop.

"You're right, Cherry. Maybe he can help me."

* * *

She was there, standing outside the glass doors of the adoption center. She didn't see Huck inside, and that gave her time to collect herself and to take in more necessary breaths of oxygen.

She drew her hand towards the door handle, then retracted it. She reached for it a second time but cowered again. Scolding herself, she let herself in anyway, much to her mind's dismay.

The front office was empty as she had inspected from the outside, the only figures there being the pencils, the pad of paper, and the much too full pencil sharpener. The notebook lay open, a few messy sketches of what could have been a new design for a pet carrier painting its thin white pages. Or was it a dinosaur? She couldn't really tell, especially since she stood a few feet away (she wanted to move closer, but she feared that Huck would catch her snooping through his things). The squiggly lines just blew the whole sketch out of proportion, so whenever she turned away and looked back at the drawing, it represented a different image each time. _Aw, __poor Huck_, Blueberry thought. _He can't draw either_.

She shook herself out of her daze when she heard a distant chatter towards the back of the building.

She peeked her head around the corner of the open doorway and immediately saw him conversing with a small family, a little ladybug girl eagerly looking past him towards the pet cages. The child clasped her little hands in tight fists, readying them to embrace whatever animal would be placed within her grasp. Blueberry could only hope that she wasn't going to choke the poor thing. The parents were more serious, though Blueberry noticed the mother periodically peering at the cute animals that barked and meowed and squeaked as well.

Huckleberry sounded so professional and so oddly mature when he spoke; Blueberry had seen him act so awkward and clumsy around her and the others that the way she now saw him was foreign to her. How much older he looked and sounded, and she must have seemed the same, but she'd always looked at the two of them as still being really young. Five years felt more like seven or ten in her case, but she supposed that they just had a slow childhood.

Blueberry accidently bumped the door frame with her hand and tried not to cry out in pain. Huck darted his head in her direction at the subtle but noticeable noise and momentarily stared at her blankly, then resumed his conversation with the family. He crouched to the little girl's height. "Which pet do you want?'' he asked eagerly but politely. The girl excidedly pointed to a baby golden retriever in one of the cages. "Good choice!" Huck chimed. "But be careful: she likes to give lots of wet kisses!"

He unlocked the cage to set the puppy free, and it licked him all over his face like he'd warned. It greeted the child the same way it greeted Huckleberry - with lots of wet licking. She giggled in delight, her parents nodding with their seal of approval.

The family left with loads of supplies for their new addition, and they, too, noticed Blueberry. She tried to act casual, but in her opinion, she didn't act at all normal. However, she couldn't help but admire them: it wasn't everyday that she saw families in the bitty world. It wasn't that they didn't exist, it was just that they were scarce: often times, children separated from their parents at very young ages, so sometimes at an age as young as seven they would already open their own businesses and be treated as adults. At least, when she'd left her foster family to live on her own at age nine that was the case, except that Princess Berrykin treated her like her proper age. It was only a matter of time before that little girl would move out and lead an independent life of her own.

But _oh_, how she wished she could have experienced the simple pleasures in life, to do small but sweet activities like adopting a pet and building tree houses and buying ice cream and -

Huck tapped her on her shoulder. "Um, hi," he said, and Blueberry's heart skipped a beat. She was still watching the family.

"Hi," she returned as she watched him wipe slobber off his face. There was that awkward silence again.

Huck rocked on the heels of his sneakers. "So... do you want to sit down?"

"No, I'm fine; thanks. I came here to talk to you about something."

Huck leaned against the wall. "Is it about what happened Friday?" he asked, sounding fearful. "Because if it is, you never have to speak to me again if that's what you prefer. I feel as uncomfortable about the situation as you do. I'm pathetic, I know."

"You're not pathetic! And that's not quite what I came here for..." she only mumbled the last part.

Huck tossed his tissue into the trash. ''Yeah, I am, just admit it already. I should have never confessed that I liked you: ever since then I can't think straight, and now I feel that I destroyed our entire friendship. I'm so stupid!" he kicked the trash can, his face turning scarlet.

"Will you quit beating yourself up about it? Don't you think I feel as bad about the situation as you do? And besides, I didn't come here to talk to you about that."

He raised his head. "Then what for?"

Blueberry raised the newspaper. "I need you to shape up your writing skills, because I need your help with something very important, and it requires your full concentration and attention."

He focused on the paper and took it from her. "Why?"

"I found this publishing company" - she pointed to the information on the article - "and they're searching for new writers. Since the girls and I need income to go towards the Preservation Soil, I thought I would try contacting them to see if they're interested in publishing my work. However, I'll need some help with editing and idea suggestions, so that's where you will come in. Don't worry, I promise that you'll get your fair share of the profits."

Huck flipped to the next page of the article. "Sure, Blueberry, I'd love to help." He appeared relieved that they could discuss a subject besides the former, but it still hung over their shoulders.

Blueberry watched him as he read the paper, feeling again what she felt that one afternoon at the lake, but she shook her head to rid herself of the feelings. She gulped. "And one final thing," she added. "Can we just put this whole situation behind us? I don't want it to jeopardize this project or our friendship, and the longer it remains unsettled, the more it nags me. I want us to just stay friends, and nothing more." It pained her to say these words, but they needed to be said.

He took his attention off the paper and solemnly nodded, breaking eye contact with her when he looked into her blue retinas. "Sure, if that's what you prefer," he lowly said. He chuckled a bit. "Can I be honest with you? Don't take this the wrong way, but afterwards, I felt...nauseated."

Blueberry smiled. "So did I! I thought I was the only one." They both laughed, and for a moment, things seemed back to normal between them.

And that was that. How could she have been so nervous over that simple matter? All it took was a brief talk, and now things were back to normal like they were supposed to be. She could finally start to look at him again without feeling uncomfortable, and he would probably begin to feel the same way about her. But did that mean that she no longer had feelings for him, and he for her? Maybe, but she swallowed deeply to bury hers into the dark depths of nothingness without supplying them with a lifeguard to resurface into the forbidden zone: her heart. Besides, what they momentarily shared was just a stupid little crush anyway, and a stupid little kiss. It was officially over now, wasn't it?

* * *

Blueberry convinced Huck to take a break from his job to stop by the girls' apartment to begin formulating ideas. She just finished turning the key into the lock when she saw Cherry installing a flat screen television in the living room.

"What are you doing?" Blueberry cried.

Cherry stood above the clutter in which she sat. "I thought I'd do something nice: the girls complained of being bored, so I thought I'd surprise them." She noticed Huck and ran over to give him a hug. "Huck, it's been so long since I've seen you!" she cried, pulling him close to her.

"Hey, Cherry," he returned, and Blueberry started to eye them skeptically, but she directed her attention to something else before Huck could notice.

"So you've decided to buy them a _T.V_.?" Blueberry continued when Cherry finally pulled away from him. "Cherry, you really didn't have to do that. It was nice of you and all, but we don't need anymore distractions."

"Don't be silly, Blueberry; it's no trouble, really." Cherry paced back to her station and stuffed all the foam, cardboard, and other garbage into the box and tossed it aside. "Now let's see if it works."

She pressed the circular power button, and when the television came to life, a face that was all too familiar lit the screen: her own. Cherry groaned as she watched herself dance around the screen in sparkly attire and knee-high boots with backup dancers accentuating her performance. In one scene she drove a vintage convertible through the streets at night, another depicted her dancing at a party, and still another revealed her collaborating with the individual she despised the most besides the Figs - Delia.

Cherry quickly changed the channel to avoid watching the rest of her music video and switched it to a game show. The others objected.

"Aw, change it back, Cherry!" cried the others, who had been too busy cheering and gaping at the screen for her to want to listen.

"No, let's watch something else instead," she insisted, pretending to be interested in a contestant on the screen who incorrectly answered all of the questions, therefore losing the cash prize. She didn't want to expose them to _that_, or whatever fitting belittling label she could give her career: she used to look forward to showing them her projects, but thinking back to her recent "makeover" from the preceding months, she was too humiliated to show them anything at all.

She couldn't even recognize herself anymore, that once bright, cheery dark-haired country girl who'd been noticed by an agent more than a decade ago, who since then had never had the opportunity to return to her roots. She now couldn't believe that she even wanted her friends to see her various new music videos, as bad as they were: professionally made, but lacking her signature touch, like she'd become an entirely new person. Good thing the power was out back at home so that they wouldn't have been subjected to enduring that - wait, she shouldn't have been thinking that, but could she help that she was ashamed that she let her once straight path spiral into a stiff fork in the road?

Lemon plucked the controller from her hand, then switched the station back to the one airing her music video. Once again, the air was contaminated with the astonished cries of amazement and pure shock, and as Cherry horridly glanced around the room, she noticed Huck frowning, one eyebrow arched, like he didn't know what to think about what he saw. He looked disappointed, almost in a way that made her want to throw the remote at the T.V. to get rid of its existence. He gazed from the television to her, apparently confused as to how these two individuals were the same person; she could tell that he much preferred her in her normal state, without all of the junk on her face and over-the-top clothing. Meanwhile, the others continued to stare at the screen in wonder except for Orange, who continued to pout while giving all of her attention to the floor, and Blueberry, who transitioned her vision to the buttons on her outfit and seemed to share the same opinion as Huck.

Immediately, Cherry snatched the device back from the blonde, this time discovering a station that aired programs about wildlife. "It's time that we watch something else, isn't it?" she insisted a second time, a nervous pant protruding from her lips when she noticed those who mentally judged her gaze back at the screen. A giraffe among many others of its kind walked across the display.

"Put it back, Cherry, or we'll miss the rest of it! Hand that here!" Lemon tugged at the upper end of the T.V. remote, but Cherry, expecting this of her, held firm to the lower half. Her friend was pretty weak, and Cherry knew she wouldn't put up much of a fight when Lemon saw that her freshly painted french manicure was at stake. However, Lemon was presumably tougher than she thought, for the beauty guru managed to snatch it from Cherry's grip and tried to find the channel they'd just left.

"Lemon, stop it, will you!" Cherry reached out to grab the item back, but Lemon raised it above her head so she couldn't; and this being said, she jogged to the other end of the apartment, the production video burning Cherry's eyes through the glass like she had swallowed fire, but with her pupils instead of her throat. "Be reasonable, now!" Cherry chased the girl, the others just watching them instead of at least trying to break up the feud. Cherry at last caught Lemon by the arm and yanked her towards her, causing the two of them to stumble to the ground, the remote flying in mid air and finally hitting the tiled floor and spilling out its batteries, thus changing the channel before it cracked. "Great." Cherry picked up the broken pieces, but Lemon seemed to quickly forget about the situation, as did the others. "It's the princess!" she shouted, and pointed towards the screen.

Beatrice stood before a grand audience of citizens and foreigners alike, which was revealed when the camera periodically switched from her to them. The princess looked annoyed, perhaps grumpy, but still arrogant overall: her hair was pulled into a tight bun that didn't entirely suit her face shape, but thank goodness her bangs saved the style from being entirely too hideous, in the words of Lemon. A pasty rose-colored suit clung to her figure, matching a sort of theme she was going for. "I assure you that I will try to the best of my ability to enforce a safe releasing of the soil," she spoke into the microphone attached to her podium, which was much too small. "It has always been my ritual to entrust this cure into the proper hands, so I can affirm that upon leaving my palace, the Preservation Soil will make a safe journey to its new owners. Any questions?" The crowd roared with voices in which there was no point in listening to when all possible questions were drowned out.

Orange's ligaments froze, fear encompassing the features on her face. "She - she's announcing on national television that it's real, to the entire _world_? The Preservation Soil?!" She began to hyperventilate again as was common of her when she became overwhelmed, anxiously gripping the armrest with a clawed hand, nearly bursting it and the rest of the couch. "But it's only July! She can't announce it this early! Strawberry said that the auction is in December, so why would she choose to mention it _now_?" She balled up in her place, rocking to and fro.

"Shhh!" Plum shushed.

One of the audience members, supposedly a news reporter, pushed his way through the waves of the raging crowd. If it weren't for his microphone, he would have been buried within everyone else's screeching cries. "Your highness, you state that the cure is real, but how can the citizens be certain that it does in fact exist?" He rubbed his bald spot. "Is her majesty willing to reveal this legend to the media as we speak?"

Beatrice gave a sly smirk. "Why, of course." She turned around for a second, the multitude remaining quiet during this quick period of time, until she obtained a drawstring bag from an employee and stuck her hand inside of it. "Does anyone have a malnourished plant so I shall demonstrate?" An ocean of hands stuck in the atmosphere, some people going as far as trying to climb onto the stage to give one to her, but they were held back by security.

A dainty girl sporting dandelion yellow hair who had a spiral bound notebook in hand presented a deceased rose, one that was once a beautiful white. A pencil fell out of her beanie where she'd stuck it to get the rose, but she was too concentrated on the princess to see it roll into the drain on the ground. "Ah, yes, this will do," continued Beatrice, who plucked the flower from her fingertips and marched elegantly back to her station.

"She wouldn't!" shouted Blueberry, much louder than her usual volume, stinging Huck's hearing. "She's only doing that because she's trying to get back at us!"

Orange covered her face with an afghan. "You don't think she's serious, do you? Oh, what have I done?!"

Beatrice rotated her closed hand over the rose, and speck by speck, the mystical blue soil landed onto it while the audience became flabbergasted, holding their breath and releasing wonderous gasps. Nothing changed the appearance of the deceased's almost nonexistent petals at first glance, but slowly and steathily, a sharp green color returned to the leaves. It only took about a minute for the rose to sprout new stems, and another rose sprouted from its side and separated from it, and another rose, and another, and another, until Beatrice ended up with a whole bouquet of them in her hands. Everyone screamed in what they didn't know to be amazement or shock, and the broadcast revealed them stuck in their places - that is, until they decided to run full rage towards the stage and try to tackle the princess to pry the precious treasure from her royal hands, and they fought one another trying to get to the podium and punched the law enforcement trying to do so.

Beatrice took a hesitant step back, then said, "Thank you; good day, all," and left her station, thus fleeing into the building behind her.

"That little - ! She did that on purpose!" Lemon argued, folding her arms across her chest. Orange just re-buried her face into her pillow and let out a new set of sniffles.

The ringing of Blueberry's phone startled everyone: she scrambled to find it, then discovering it in the basket of newspapers, she checked the caller ID. "It's Princess Berrykin!" she announced. "What are we gonna tell her? You know that she's counting on us to get the soil from Beatrice. What if she's upset that someone else has a better chance at receiving it now?"

"Just answer the call and see what she says." Huck took the phone from her to answer it, returning it to her after he'd done so. They waited with held breath before they spoke.

"Girls, _what_ in the world is going on? What compelled my sister to announce to the world that she's going to sell the soil? Is something going on that I don't know about?"

Blueberry opened her mouth to protest against this objection, but to do that would be a downright lie. How would she word Orange's situation to the princess? Blueberry only had to look at Orange once for her to understand what she meant, that she had to explain what happened that one night for herself.

Orange stepped from the living area, her legs stiff from sitting on them so long and trying to get the prickly feeling out of them, and took the phone from Blueberry. "I'm sorry, Princess Berrykin! It's my fault: your sister invited me to her house yesterday, and I had a short fuse with her, but that was only because she started intentionally messing with my mind. She asked me several odd questions and went as far as asking where you're currently living, but I knew better than to reveal that information, so I didn't tell her. She even showed me the cure, but she was very protective of it like you said. I know I was wrong to act the way I did."

Princess Berrykin sighed. "I forgive you, Orange, put please be much more careful if you have an encounter with her again. I find it peculiar that she would show you the soil so soon: you have only been in Berry Big City a few days," she spoke. "But then again, she probably did that with intention: she has always been one to enjoy mind games. Don't worry, girls, we will not allow this minor setback to deter us. We just need to work harder to ensure that she does not pull anymore tricks from her pleated sleeve."

Orange's face flooded with relief.

"Then what action should we take? It's only been less than a week and she's already suspicious of us," Blueberry interjected. "If only Strawberry were here: she would know what to do."

"Rest assured, we will think of something. Our plan has to be one that she will not suspect, one that will temporarily throw her off track, if that is possible."

Huck leaned over Blueberry's shoulder to speak into the phone. "Like what?"

"Goodness, boy, I did not know that you were present. Girls, why didn't you tell me he was there? Did you inform him about our plan?"

Blueberry peeked at him from the corner of her eye. It was evident that he was annoyed from the princess' remark, aware that he once again was the one to be excluded. "Yes, but he's on board with us, Princess, and so is Cherry. You are, aren't you, guys?''

Cherry and Huck replied simultaneously.

"All right, but no one else can know beyond them, do you understand? This situation is anything but futile," clarified the heiress. "Now, Orange Blossom, since you were the one to create the conflict, you will be the one to resolve it. I want you to return to Beatrice's home and apologize to her."

Plum frowned. "That's it? I thought the point here was to confuse her. If she just goes to tell her she's sorry, what good will that do?"

"Much more than you think. If Orange is known for her temper, my sister will be quite pleased to find that she is willing to apologize. And by doing so, Orange will exhibit a form of respect and willingness to submit to her ruling. This approach is common, I know, but it will help to throw her off track. Beatrice has always been so gifted at figuring out the most complex of situations, but she is rather not used to comprehending the most simple of matters. I am almost certain that this strategy will work."

Raspberry, who watched the screening of Beatrice's announcement turn into an average news report about Berry Big City's weather patterns for the next week and a half, decided to pipe in. "So with all of this, you just want Orange to go over there and apologize? Do you even think that she'll let her inside?"

"Believe me, she will." Princess Berrykin's tone grew heavy, her words trailing off into a faint whisper, diminishing into thin air. "Well, I should best be on my way; make sure that Strawberry receives this news when she returns. I assume that she's found a job?"

"She has, at a burger place. It's a bit low-key, but the rest of us will find some work sooner or later," Blueberry stated.

"Good, good. I'm counting on you girls, Plum, Orange, Raspberry. You as well, Huckleberry." And with that, the phone went silent.

Blueberry pressed a palm against her warm cheek. "If Orange is going to apologize to the princess, she has to do it with the right formality. For her to show up with only herself seems passé."

"Well don't expect me to come in with a whole circus behind me to entertain her. I don't know, guys, I have this hunch that this isn't going to go well on my part."

"Hey, don't have that kind of attitude. If Strawberry were here right now, she'd tell you to replace the negative with the positive." Index finger in sync with her expression, Cherry gave an accurate impersonation of Strawberry, amusing the others.

"I guess you're right. But how do I go about begging pardon to the most important ruler in this bitty universe? I can only imagine her saying, 'Oh, you simple-minded child: how do you go about your day expecting any great ruler to accept a sorry note such as that? Guards, take her away!' and after that I'll be back at square one. Maybe I _should _call in the circus."

"Don't be so hard on yourself, Orange. Stubborn as she is, there should still be _some_ warmth left in that stone she calls a heart," Lemon assured her.

"What if you give her a present? You know, something like a gift basket," Huck suggested. "Whenever Marmalade's upset, what's the first thing you think to give her to make her feel better? A treat. If you do this with the princess, it's destined to work. It's got to."

Orange's eyes lit up. "Aha! That's brilliant, Huck!" she exclaimed, to which he grinned. "All Beatrice needs is a little chew toy to occupy her for a while, and then we'll go in and steal the bait, or earn the money to buy the soil from her, I mean, and she won't know what hit her." She paused a moment. "But what do you give someone who already has everything?" This puzzled all of them.

"Well... I guess you just give her general things, like shampoos and soaps. At least, that's what I include in my baskets at the salon." Lemon's face fell at the thought of her old business.

"Oh, she apparently likes air fresheners, too. Her two guards were searching for some yesterday at the general store, believe it or not. It probably takes a million of them to fill up her entire house." Orange jotted a list of ideas.

Raspberry grabbed the basket sitting on the counter, emptying its contents of newspapers into the garbage, which by impulse made Blueberry to rush to their rescue, and sat it on the floor for each of them to place a household item inside of it. The items were nothing of high class, only little knickknacks from their shops back at home, Orange discovering automatic air fresheners in the bottom of her suitcase, Lemon inserting a set of hair products and perfumed lotions, and Raspberry placing in a tiny sewing kit, which was the only thing she could think to include. It was one of her personal belongings that she treasured dearly, and to give it away was a stab in the heart, but the initial reason for doing so was well worth the sacrifice. They continued until the basket was filled to the brim and at last wrapped it with a fine golden ribbon that stretched across the handle to secure itself. Despite its receiver, the gang exerted much effort into making their gift to the princess as special as possible and spent the rest of the afternoon guaranteeing that they'd tried to the best of their ability to make it nothing less than perfect.


	12. Consequences

**After three long months, I have returned! Sorry that I haven't updated this story in so long: I've been pretty busy, but I now have some time I can dedicate to start writing it again. So rest assured, I haven't given up on it. I just want to thank everyone for their support on this story, namely randompandattack and danielpetiteamie. Without your support, I probably would have dropped this story a long while ago. Believe it or not, I've actually been working on it for a year now!**

* * *

She listened to the melancholy splashes of the raindrops against the ceiling, unable to contain the yearning that she felt, her deprived desire to once again experience the wet solitude of the little sprinkles of water. The corners of her mouth curved into a grin as they trickled down the little upturned slope of her nose, eventually gliding down her lips until they finally rested at the tip of her chin and fell to their fate. She couldn't suppress the sense of contentment that overcame her; usually rain was a symbol of sadness, of a depressing set of emotions, but for her, it was different. It'd been so long, so, _so_ long to the point that she'd nearly forgotten what it was like: to feel the sensation of rain on her skin, to somewhat convince herself in her mind that things were going to get better. The rain was her friend, and if anyone were to take it away from her at this moment, why, they would struggle a great deal to pry her away from the puddle in which she stood, directly beneath a leaky crack in the roof of the kitchen at Berry Ben's Burgers, not taking notice, or at least caring, of the fact that she was now soaked.

The roof had started leaking terribly once a thunderstorm had settled into Berry Big City, and Quince had left to fetch some extra towels while she tried to stop the leak. It was when the first raindrop touched Strawberry's skin that she found herself in this situation, immersing herself into the weather.

Quince, narrowing his olive eyes, oddly looked at Strawberry when he returned. "Uh, when I said to stop the leak, I didn't mean to stop it by putting yourself under it."

Strawberry took the towels from him, stuffing one into the crack and drying herself with the other, her brain clicking back into reality. "Sorry; I was just a little out of sorts, I guess."

Quince chuckled. "Yeah, but you're acting like you've never seen rain before. Where do you live, the desert?"

Strawberry brushed her fingers against the towel, but in a sort of way that indicated she was becoming annoyed with him. "Very funny," she said under her breath. Even though he sometimes said things that were pretty stupid, and at the worst times, too, she couldn't help but feel that Quince was an integral part of the workplace, taking note how he was, ironically, mature and not-so-mature at the same time. His personality annoyed their boss, but to her, secretly, she liked that he was that way. In the few weeks she'd been working with him, they had already formed a pretty close friendship, and it was the jokes that they shared in the workplace that helped her get through those long, hard hours that their boss and the customers created for them. At first her job was thoroughly enjoyable to her, but once she became accustomed to its tiring conditions, she began to change her opinion. The small pieces of humor that passed here and there were what motivated her to stay optimisitic because, in the case of living with her friends, there was hardly any humor within their household like there used to be in their small community of Berry Bitty City. Now everyone was always so serious, so really, there wasn't any time to be wasted on such frivolous things as telling jokes or even making small talk. Strawberry's refined role as leader placed her in an even tougher position, so she was too busy playing Mom to her friends to even consider thinking about herself. Her mind tended to wander more than usual - she just couldn't tame it enough to fully place her focus on what was in front of her. She often liked to pretend that she wasn't in her current situation, that she was back at home and didn't have to worry about a thing except tending to the berry patch and baking delectible treats at her café.

He brushed it off like it was nothing. "Nah, it's cool with me - I just don't think that the boss would like seeing his employees looking like they just came out of a washing machine. That guy would think we were playing with a sprinkler or something like that, and you know he doesn't want anyone having fun on the job."

This time she chuckled a bit herself, tossing the towel back to him before heading to the cash register.

Strawberry half-expected to be ambushed by a fifty-foot line of customers like she had various other times, but something else seemed to occupy their worrisome minds instead of the fact that she was off her fifteen-minute break.

Several people scampered in the streets and pathways seeking shelter from the storm, some of them holding onto their hair as if it were going to come flying off their heads and soak their expensive footware, and used their hands as protection, which didn't help them nonetheless. Others snatched napkins off the nearby restaurant tables to cover their faces, as if that would work. They would be soaked in an instant, tissue or not. The citizens of Berry Big City seemed to have an overall dislike for the late summer showers, but Strawberry thought otherwise about the acts of nature. She used to not like the rain so much either, but she'd learned to appreciate it given its importance to the plant life surrounding all the towns. _Lucky them_, she said in her mind, wishing she could leave her shift so she could splash in one of the puddles. How long she'd taken it for granted...

The minimal citizens that stayed inside the building occupied themselves by pointing at the distressed pedestrians outside and by doing other random activities that in no way were related to why they were at the restaurant in the first place.

Strawberry's cell phone buzzed in her pocket; she wasn't allowed to check her phone while she was on her shift, but no one approached the register, anyway, so she figured that checking it wouldn't do any harm. She discovered that Orange had sent her a text stating that she was about to deliver the "project" to Princess Beatrice. _Ah, right, the gift basket_, she mentally recalled. Those few weeks back, the girls had informed her of the princess' surprise announcement, and she'd been just as upset as they had been. However, she relaxed some once they told her of their plan to try to win Beatrice over, which involved bribing her, yes, but sometimes sucking up to people is the only way to get through to them. She wasn't certain that giving a gift basket was the most practical plan concerning such a stingy ruler, but she couldn't argue because she obviously didn't have any better ideas to counter with theirs.

Thumbs moving swiftly, Strawberry typed a quick reply. She then checked the data usage and minutes on her phone: she was running low on roll-over minutes, and what further dimished them was that she and her friends had decided to join a family plan to try to conserve money. This being said, they had about forty percent of their plan left before their phones would be deactivated, but she only needed to check the weather for the rest of the week, so she probably wouldn't have to worry about using too much storage.

The weather patterns were set to be rainy for the remainder of the week excluding Sunday, which she didn't mind much at all, actually, and brought her thumb to hit the exit button right before an article on the news tab caught her eye. "Two Dead and One Injured After a Preservation Soil Misconception on Tuesday," it read, convincing Strawberry to click on it.

The article relayed that three individuals were spotted carrying Preservation Soil-like substances, only to later have two of their lives brutally ended by a group of thieves. Upon the robbers' capture by the police, it turned out that the items they'd stolen were only bags of glittery sand, the kind that people buy from craft stores. The location it occurred was only a little way off from where Strawberry worked...

"The two deaths have reduced the current human world population to 930," the article read. "If the current death rate continues to increase, the human population is said to go extinct within the next fifty years - already five murders have been committed over the course of three weeks." She lowered her phone on that last sentence. There were only less than a thousand people in the bitty world. Less than a thousand. And if they continued to diminish, they would be no more, and eventually they would leave the occupants to be only those of berrykins and insects, which there were already thousands upon thousands of. Strawberry had never heard of there ever being a lot of people in the bitty world, considering she only saw others besides her friends on very rare occasions - before she moved to Berry Big City, that is - but why were they so underpopulated? She didn't know much about the other world, as they referred to the larger one, but were the people there in the same situation?

A series of horrifying images were displayed beneath the text, and although they didn't reveal much except the lumps under the white sheets, Strawberry clasped her hand over her mouth, and she suddenly felt light-headed and sick from what she'd read and seen. She noticed a string of other similar articles of recently commited crimes following the princess' announcement. That dreadful announcement. Everything was fine before she decided to make that awful announcement.

She rocked from left to right, unable to keep her balance, and accidently knocked supplies off the counter behind her. Odd images flashed before her vision, images of the horrible scenes she'd read about in the article. But they were too life-like to just be her imagination, entirely too realistic. And she thought she smelled the coppery odor of blood seeping into her nostrils and even tasted it on her tongue. She was hot and dizzy, and barrelled past Quince through the door and to the bathroom when he'd finished mopping up the puddles from the leak.

She ran to the sink and splashed cold water on her face, then sunk to the floor and covered it with her hands. She had never heard of such a thing being done, not once in her life. She'd read about plenty of murders in the mystery books that Blueberry lent her, but never had she heard about one occurring in real life.

She sat and waited for the nausea to subside, but it didn't. Her forehead was really hot and sticky, and she pressed her hand against it to find it covered in beads of sweat. The images still flashed in her mind at a very rapid pace; blinking her eyes didn't make them go away, and neither did closing them. She just had to put up with them until they went away, but she hadn't the slightest idea when that was going to be.

A rapid knocking came at the door. "Strawberry, are you okay? What's going on in there?" It was Quince. ''You can't just leave your shift like that!"

Strawberry swallowed deeply and forced herself to stand, conquering through her shakiness. It required a terrible amount of effort to straighten her spine, but she managed, and limped to the bathroom door to open it. She must have looked awful, because Quince looked concerned when he saw her. "I'm fine," she half-croaked, and started to head back to the kitchen before he stopped her.

"Are you sure? You don't look so good, and you're awfully pale. I'll take over for you if you're not well enough to work. Maybe you should head home."

Strawberry moved past him. "No, no, I'm okay. I just feel a little warm: I'll be fine if I just drink some water," she partially lied, and erected herself to make her statement believable.

Quince didn't look convinced, but he nodded anyway and left the room.

* * *

Galoshes splashing in the mud, Orange Blossom ran with all her might through the jammed streets that were slick with puddles. The gift basket that she held bounced up and down, and she couldn't stand that its contents constantly shifted out of order; in spite of this, she didn't have time to readjust them for the billionth time, for she had more important matters at hand.

She'd come to the conclusion to wait before she delivered the basket to the princess: she felt the longer she waited, the better its effectiveness, and besides, it was imperative that she let the princess cool down before she even dared bother to show her face at the castle again.

Orange had called a cab, as was customary since she and the others didn't have a vehicle of their own besides their broken motor scooters back at their hometown. What a waste it was, though, when it couldn't even get her to where she needed to be. She sat for, what, twenty, thirty minutes maybe, possibly an hour at most? That was too long of a wait for her, so she decided to jump out the cab and travel the rest of the way on foot because, let's be honest, that was the faster option, contrarily. She'd forgotten to pay the cab driver, so while he was shouting at her to stay in the vehicle or to pay him cash, the blaring horns of the other cars drowned him out. He went unheard, and Orange ran between the other cars and tried her best not to slip on the pavement. She eventually found a clear path to one of the sidewalks without having to climb over one of the vehicles, so she ran, half gliding, in the knick of time before traffic began to slightly move and before she could be grazed by a truck.

She hated being filthy, her rainboots covered in the stinky mud, her raincoat operating like a water fountain, but she attempted to take her mind away from those factors and put it towards the basket, which she had covered in aluminum foil to protect it. She heard its items jumping around again, and by that time, she felt compelled to remove the foil to fix them once more.

Suddenly, there was the sounding of an alarm and the breaking of a window, and when she turned around to see what in the world was going on, she was forced to duck, for someone ran and jumped directly over her head! She fell to the ground, the gift basket tumbling a few feet from her reach, and it moved further from her grasp when the other pedestrians kicked it unknowingly while they walked. Either they didn't know they were doing it, or they didn't care.

Orange pushed herself up with her hands, becoming aware of the wet scuffs on her knees, just as another indivdual climbed on top of her back and jumped off her head to follow the other person who had the nerve to jump over her like she was an obstacle course. The footsteps felt light and almost gentle despite their rapidity, so Orange could instantaneously tell that the person on her back was a berrykin. Berrykins were almost light as birds, and they kind of tickled when they touched one's skin. Over the last several years of living amongst hundreds of them, Orange knew the feeling all too well.

"Hey, what's the big idea!" she shouted while shaking her fist, and the berrykin turned around for her to see that he wore a black mask to conceal his face. Orange's eyes widened with realization. The berrykin, who also had a bag slung over his shoulder, looked behind Orange and ran to easily blend in with the crowd of citizens, who were hands down over twelve times his size.

Two police officers ran past her next, and when Orange turned around she noticed that she was close to a bank, which had its front windows smashed and therefore was the place that was currently blaring its alarm system. Those two people who jumped over her were _robbers_, and they now ran at full speed with bags full of money slung over their shoulders.

Orange became annoyed with herself. She could have stopped them, or the berrykin, at least: he just stood there and stared at her for a few given seconds, and that would have been plenty of time for her to snatch him into her hands and bring him to the cops. Berrykins were so little, so that would have been such an easy task, but she was in too much of a shock to actually witness a robbery to take that opportunity. She realized that she was still sitting on the ground, then decided to get up to find her misplaced gift basket. Her chance was long gone now, so there wasn't a point in torturing herself in a situation she couldn't control. She only hoped that the police would catch those two thieves.

She excused herself while passing through the crowd, who still stayed where they were nonetheless, but she just wanted to be polite. After walking several feet, she still couldn't find her gift basket and began to worry until she saw it sitting turned on its side beside a homeless ladybug woman. Orange gently grabbed the basket, so as to not make it seem like she was stealing something herself, and paused to look at the woman. She seemed so sad, sitting in the rain by herself, no one else even caring to help her. Everyone should be able to experience the comforts of owning a home, and having a bed to sleep in, and food to eat, and so at that moment, Orange decided to hand the woman the money she was supposed to pay the cab driver. _She needs it more than I do_, she thought, and the woman generously smiled at her and mouthed a "Thank you" before Orange continued on her way to the palace.

* * *

Orange's feet grew very tired, and her legs were weary. She could literally hear her joints crackling while she walked, and she so desperately wanted to sit down for a minute or two. By now, the heavy rain began to penetrate her raincoat, even though she purchased a cheap umbrella to help keep her dry. The useless piece of junk hardly did anything for her, and so she threw it at a nearby garbage can in her frustration. The gift was pretty mangled now, although the aluminum foil did a better job at keeping it dry than Orange's umbrella had. Everything was bound to be a mess now, but Orange kept herself from looking at it until she arrived to her destination to avoid tossing the gift as well from how bad it probably looked.

A loud crack of thunder roared throughout the city, shaking the ground on which Orange walked. It practically felt like an earthquake and almost made her lose her balance. Immediately after the thunder, a high-voltage bolt of lightning lit the sky, such a brilliant electric blue that Orange was temporarily blinded for a couple of seconds. She shouldn't have been outside in this kind of weather, and she knew it, too; but which was worse? Being struck by lightning or facing the princess' wrath? Probably the latter.

Her wobbly legs refused to take her any further after she walked for another mile. They were too noodly and exhausted to carry her anymore, collapsing on her once she finally reached the castle. There was still that tall, dreadful hill to walk up, and she felt so tired and walked for so many hours that she didn't think she could make it. _Do it for Berry Bitty City, Orange_, she mentally challenged herself, and one by one, her legs seemed to listen and slowly lifted themselves up to trudge up the first part of the hill to the gate.

She was met with a load of angry faces, faces of those who grudgingly shouted at the structure with such vehemence that Orange became terrified to even approach them. Some carried picket signs in protest, some sat on others' shoulders to project their voices, and Orange, meanwhile, was the only person carrying a present for the ruler. She contemplated on the matter: the angry mob would probably attack her next if they discovered what was under the mound of foil, so she had to disguise it as something else. In a dire effort to go against her tidy ways, she scrunched the foil with her hands and crinkled it as much as she could, contrarily trying to make it look like a piece of trash.

Rolls of toilet paper were thrown over the beautiful gates, as in a way to defame the princess. Several cans of spray paint appeared out of the people's bags, and they painted awful images and language on the great stone wall. After only a minute, it was already covered with the putrid stench of paint fumes and dreadful names that no one would want to be called.

"Show us the soil!" a portion of them shouted, and some of the others cheered while other groups demanded different actions. Orange just became lost in the fiasco, looking left to right and not knowing what to do with herself anymore. How would she ever enter the palace now? If the gates were opened for her, it would be pretty easy for the mob to penetrate the guards and invade the castle.

There was the issuing of a flare gun, and it was only a matter of a few quick seconds for Beatrice's army to enter the crowd and take down every last person that was in their path. Protestors tried to run away from them, but in the end, they were captured with the others and taken away in handcuffs. Orange, in fear, stood straight against the wall to avoid the frenzy, but in her dismay, the guards started coming for her, too.

"No, no! Wait! I came to give a gift to the princess; I'm not part of what they're doing!" she shouted in a panic. But would they even believe her?

"State your name," one of them demanded behind his black shades.

"Orange Blossom."

They seemed to have a remembrance of her from her last visit, for they picked her up and started dragging her towards the captivity of the others, all while she screamed at the top of her lungs and kicked one of them in the chest so hard that he jolted.

Orange looked upwards, seeing a faintly small but unable to miss security camera, which rotated to observe the situation. This was her only chance. Her one chance.

"Princess Beatrice!" she kept shouting, until she heard a tiny voice speak through one of the guards' bluetooth earpiece. She wasn't entirely certain, but it sounded like the princess' voice.

"Bring her in," it simply demanded, and Orange was dropped to the ground instantly after that. So it _was_ Beatrice. She rubbed her backside, which now hurt terribly thanks to those two bafoons, and stood her ground as if she just proved something to them.

One of the guards picked up her deformed gift. "What is this?" he asked, and didn't give Orange a chance to respond before he ripped the aluminum off to reveal the disatrous gift basket. All of its contents were in ruins, the shampoos spilled, the air fresheners broken, Raspberry's sewing kit soiled. It was truly an ugly thing to behold.

The bumblebee guard recklessly rummaged through it, further making the gift look even worse than it already did, and Orange had to look away to prevent herself from yelling at him for disorganizing everything. Without word, he and his partner each grabbed Orange by one of her arms and basically lifted and carried her through the gate and up the hill. _So we're back to this again_, Orange thought, but she really didn't mind all that much because she was still too exhausted to climb the hill herself.

This time she was dropped on a loveseat, the same loveseat that she sat on right before Beatrice showed her the soil and kicked her out of the palace. Orange felt quite embarrassed that she looked of such a frazzled state; she rubbed her face with the insides of her raincoat to clean whatever grime might be leftover from the dirt. The basket, mangled as it was, was sat beside her, and the two guards left, only for Orange to peek around the corner to see them lining the doorway.

A clacking of heels echoed down the hallway: the princess' heels. Orange fixed her posture to make herself look presentable, and when she turned her head, she saw her: that taut face, the suspicious eyes. Or, at least, that's what she'd imagined - in reality, Beatrice looked exhausted and very stressed, her eyes partially bloodshot and her expression flipped to more of a frown than usual.

"I just had the maid to clean that loveseat this morning," she said. "Now I have to tell her to clean it again, I suppose."

Orange smiled sheepishly and lowered her head to look at the mess she'd made. The entire cushion beneath her was soaked with a large wet spot. Actually, it made her look like she'd had an accident on herself.

"So what brings your presence, Miss Blossom?" she continued, sounding bored, and sat on the seat across from her with her hands folded in her lap.

Orange mentally took a deep breath. _You can do this, Orange - don't screw it up_. She'd gone over the speech she'd prepared a thousand times, so how could she, anyway?

"I came to apologize for my behavior during our last meeting," she mustered. "That was very disrepectful of me, and I truly am sorry, your highness. I just don't know what came over me then. I hope you can forgive me."

Beatrice's expression began to soften, almost like it had when Orange told her about Berry Bitty City the other visit ago. "I see," was all she said.

There was a brief moment of silence as one of the princess' workers notified her about another catastrophe that had struck the city, but she said it while unaware of Orange's presence. Orange pretended to mind her own business as if she didn't hear her; the room felt strangely warm, despite her need for it for being in the chilly rain for so long, and she found its source to be the fireplace burning on the other side of the room. Something was burning in it, what was supposedly a stack of newspapers? Orange squinted to get a better look at the unburnt portions; the task would have been easier for her had she thought to wear her reading glasses.

"Very well, Berridette. That is all I would like to hear for now. Thank you," sighed Beatrice, who looked back at Orange and appeared uncomfortable that she heard the relayed news. She saw her staring at the fireplace. "Hey, stop that!" she snapped with both her voice and her fingers, and Orange, alarmed, jerked her head around like someone who would lie about not doing something that they clearly did do.

Orange processed the images into her mind: too bad the princess didn't know she had photographic memory. All of the bits of newspapers were related to her announcement of the Preservation Soil's existence, and nothing but crisis had aroused since she made that terrible decision. Was that why she witnessed a robbery on her way over there?

"Um, I brought you a gift - it's from all of us, actually. It's a little ruined, though." Orange handed Beatrice the ill-advised basket. She didn't think that it would matter to her all that much now, yet, be that as it may, Beatrice's face warmed when she reviewed all of the gifts that they had given her. The soaps, the candles, the tiny sewing kit, even the spilled shampoos and the broken cookies in the plastic wrap. She eyed them like they were treasures, even though most of the items were no more than a dollar or came from the girls' suitcases.

"Why, thank you, child," she uttered once she was finished examining everything. Her voice quieted down, as if she had to take a breath to absorb the moment.

And Orange couldn't blame her. After all the princess had been through, what with the protesting and the crimes committed because of her actions, if she were in Beatrice's position, she would feel that way, too.


	13. Cherry's Jam

**FanFiction's site had been acting up on me for some time: it became increasingly difficult for me to post new chapters, but now that everything's working again I should be able to get back into the swing of things. I'm trying my best to work on this story more often, but I still have a looong way to go...**

* * *

Cherry yanked the cord of her vacuum cleaner to stretch it around the sharp edge of her coffee table. The cord wouldn't budge, for it had already reached its twenty-foot stretching limit, and to Cherry's misfortune, it chose to pop and snag the wires out of its protective rubber lining. The vacuum cleaner shut itself off from the shortage, and Cherry growled with annoyance while clawing her hands at the ceiling.

Sometimes she regretted purchasing such a large house: there was too much space. _Way_ too much space. Plus, her bills were overly expensive. She hardly ever lived in her actual house since she'd taken a vacation and moved to Berry Bitty City, and because she'd abandoned it for so long, her house was vacant, unprotected, and kind of dirty. She could have taken the easy way out of this situation and just hired some maids to clean it every once in a while, but she wanted to clean the grime herself to keep in touch with who she was and not let the money she had saved in her untouched bank account get to her head.

"I'm never gonna get this finished before they get here," she whined to herself. The _Berry Glitz and Glamour Network _was on its way to her house with a whole camera crew in tow, and she couldn't let them see her house in such a state of filth - it was far too humiliating to think about.

She gathered the remnants of her vacuum and hid it in her cleaning closet; there was nothing she could do about it now, so no need to try and bother finish vacuuming her rug. She plopped on her white sofa and blew air between her lips. At least she was able to clean a majority of her house, even if her carpet still looked matted for not being cleaned in a few weeks. Cherry sighed. How she never enjoyed cleaning...

A rapid knocking came at her front door. "Oh _Cheeerrrry_!" echoed Rhonda Speckleberry's annoying singsong voice, and she kept knocking until Cherry finally mustered up the courage to open her door and not slam it into the woman's face.

"Why, _darling_, you're not even dressed!" Rhonda snapped her thick, ring-laden fingers. "Lunaberry, Juniper, help her pick out an outfit - we want her to look _decent_ when she's on screen."

Cherry silently snarled at her. The clothes she wore were perfectly fine, but apparently to Rhonda's standards, she looked like she just came off the street.

A large chunk of people began to squeeze themselves through her door, so many of them at a time that Cherry was worried they'd break her doorframe. How many of them did Rhonda bring?

The head of the network, in a sassy manner, marched over to Cherry's attached kitchen area and wiped her finger across the surface of the counter. "My, this place is a pig sty! Cherry, did you forget that we were coming over? Ulch!" she flicked the dust particle off her finger and continued to explore the rest of the house. Cherry tried to stop her but couldn't as the two called makeup artists set up a chair and mirror and forced her to sit. They grabbed several locks of her hair and roughly combed it; they were so quick that they could have been magicians, the way that they whipped out curling irons and tossed and curled her long raven hair until she found that it contained small waves.

The gurus then patted her face with a pancake of foundation and glued on a pair of fake eyelashes, adding an additional thick layer of eyeliner, then slapping some rose-colored lipstick onto her mouth. Their hands and arms blocked her sight, but through the tiny crevices she could peek through, she noticed several bug-men setting up bulky camera equipment and lights around the perimeter of her living room.

A berrykin hopped onto the armrest of her chair and handed her a stack of papers. "Here's your script, Miss Jam," he said, and hopped off to go fetch some random item that one of the crew members yelled at him to bring.

"What? A _script_?" Cherry flipped through the printer paper to find several paragraphs-worth of lines and actions. "I thought this was supposed to be a reality show?"

"And it still _is_, darling," came Rhonda's voice coming up the hall. "Dear, the producers have to do this in order for the show to be interesting, you see? Why, we can't just sit around and wait for something interesting to happen - that'll take decades! This way, we can progress through the seasons at a much faster rate, and the show will remain eye-catching. Understand?"

"But I don't feel like it'll be real if I'm just following a script," Cherry protested. "I'd prefer if my life is portrayed as something that really shows who I am, you know? Not just a pop star as everyone envisions me."

"Honey, it just won't work out that way!" said Rhonda, clicking her tongue. She lightly patted Cherry on her head when she noticed her sullen expression. "Here, let me show you" - she flipped to one of the pages of the script - "this is different: we won't necessarily give you lines, unless they're vital, of course: we give you _actions_, dear. And while you perform these actions, your words and reactions will all be yours - no lines included. It'll make your job and our jobs much easier, Miss Jam."

Lunaberry and Juniper pulled her out of the chair and led her to a rack of pre-chosen outfits. They held the coathangers carrying the clothes against her body to contemplate the look on her and repeatedly did that until they settled on an outfit they could agree on. They motioned for her to put it on in her powder room and nodded with contentment when they saw their protégé model in the style they had picked out.

Cherry, on the other hand, felt ridiculous, as if she shouldn't be all dressed up in her own home. Did anyone even do this? There was no way she could portray herself as an innocent girl when her clothing was too loud, implying otherwise. She wished nothing more than to take that costume off and change into her pajamas and climb into bed, never to be disturbed by this production team again.

"Okay, people, we're on a schedule here!" shouted Rhonda, who, aside from her perky demeanor, could be as loud as a drill sergeant sometimes. "The lighting over there is too bright - move it to the left a little bit. Someone go and bring me some sparkling water - I am far too parched. And, my goodness, someone please put some bronzer on Cherry! She'll look pale as a ghost with all of these obnoxious lights all over the place!"

Lunaberry and Juniper forced the pop star back into the stage chair, practically splashing her face with the liquid bronzer and smoothing it across her skin with a makeup brush, blending it just above her chest area.

The camera crew scrambled all about her downstairs area. Quite a few of them, propping the heavy cameras upon their shoulders, were already sweating, their armpits creating deep-set sweat stains through their T-shirts, some so sweaty that they began to drip on the floor. Cherry, though she understood their dilemma - after all, it was hot inside her house, and an almost one hundred degree climate waited to greet them outside - hated that their disgusting body chemicals were all over her floor. What fun she'll have mopping _that_ up.

Cherry flipped her script to the very first page and reviewed it as Rhonda began to give her instructions. "Okay, Cherry, stand over there. No, not there! There, by the coffee table. That's it. Alright, so you will have just returned home after you went out for a walk to clear your head. You will then receive a phone call from Caleb Fig asking you to meet him at the park. _Aaaannnnnd_... we're rolling!"

Cherry folded the script. "Wait, you want me to what?! I am _not _talking to _him_, and I didn't just take a walk, either."

Rhonda spit out her sparkling water, creating a rainbow with her droplets in the air. "Cut!" She placed a chubby hand on Cherry's shoulder. "Cherry, dear, what does your script tell you to do?" she asked in a simple voice, which couldn't lead to anything good.

"It says that I need to speak to Caleb."

"Exactly, Miss Jam, so do what the script says. _We are on a tight schedule_."

"But I don't feel comfortable with doing that. Can I please just do something else? Besides, I don't think he would be comfortable with being on television like that. Ha, how would he know to call me anyway? He isn't even a part of this show." Cherry's cell phone began to ring on her coffee table. She fearfully picked it up to find that the caller ID said the mentioned person was calling her: Caleb Fig. Cherry looked up with worry.

"Cherry, we have already settled this issue. We asked Caleb to become a part of the show, as well as his sister Candace, and he gladly accepted the offer. Candace took a bit more convincing, but we managed to get her to agree, too. And guess what? Delia Dragonfruit is also on board!"

Cherry's face was stricken with panic. "Why would you hire them?!" she shouted slowly, and to that Rhonda just lightly patted her shoulder again.

"What, you didn't think you were shooting this show by yourself, did you? Oh, no, no, no, you need other cast members!"

"But of all people, why did you have to choose them?! If you had informed me about this, I could have chosen my own cast members!"

"Oh, buttercup, it doesn't work that way, I'm afraid. And I thought you liked Delia, the two of you are so friendly with one another when you're on stage. But we need to create some drama - that, my dear, is what will pull the viewers in."

"I don't care what the viewers will think - if Candace sees me, I can't imagine her doing anything else aside from ripping my head off my body."

Rhonda stuck out her bottom lip as if to look sympathetic. "Well, that's why it's good to have life insurance. We're rolling!" she headed back to her station and regained her bottle of sparkling water.

Apparently Caleb hung up when Cherry's phone went to voice mail, for he was calling her a second time - and Cherry still only watched her phone and refused to answer it. Like she would want to speak to that freak after all he'd done.

"_Cuuut_! Cherry, you have to work with us here!" boomed Rhonda, angrily. "You're under contract - yeah, remember all of those forms that you signed? It's the law, dear, and if you don't cooperate like you're supposed to, we have the right to file a lawsuit. Understand, Miss Jam?''

Cherry looked at Rhonda with utter hatred. What in the bitter berry did she get herself into? On the bright side, the sooner she cooperated, the sooner she would be able to get away from these hooligans for the day.

"I understand, Rhonda," she said in a sweet voice to mock her, but Rhonda, who sipped more of her drink, didn't notice.

On her cue, Cherry clicked the answer option on her touchscreen and slid it to talk to Caleb. Her mortal enemy, next to Candace and Delia.

"Cherry?" came Caleb's voice, and Rhonda directed Cherry to switch her device to speaker phone.

"Uh, hey, Caleb." Cherry didn't want to have anything to do with him. Her voice came out dull and uninteresting to reflect her mood, but the crew's watchful glares threatened that she needed to sound more enthusiastic - or else she'd have to reshoot the whole scene.

"I've been trying to reach you for ages," he chuckled, and though it sounded like he was told to say that, he actually _had _been calling her a lot; she just ignored him. "Listen, I was hoping you could meet me at the park - you know, to try to sort things out. What's going on between us is really bothering me, Cherry, and I don't want this to continue further than it has." Now that part was scripted, and she could clearly tell.

"Um," she paused, "I think you're right, Caleb. I'll meet you over there," and with that, she hung up her phone, and Rhonda and the crew clapped because they thought the scene was perfect.

* * *

TomTom nuzzled himself along the side of his owner's khaki pants and looked up to him for his chew toy.

"Man, you really never get tired of this old thing. Fetch, boy!" said Huckleberry, and he threw his pet's toy across the expanse of the Berry Big City national park. The hound ran, his striped ears flopping against the wind, until he found his saliva-covered dog toy and ran back to Huck, who took it from him and put him back on his leash.

"That's enough playing for now, TomTom - my arm is getting sore from throwing your toy so much. You always outlast me every time we do this." He playfully rubbed his fur coat and guided him to the sidewalk to head back to his van.

Huck stepped onto the paved parking lot just as a mauve Prius whipped into one of the spaces - the space he was currently walking on with TomTom. Alarmed, he grabbed his pet and quickly jumped out of the way, and the owner of the vehicle stepped out and slammed the door.

"Huck, I'm so sorry! I didn't see you there!" cried Cherry. She looked at TomTom, who was still cradled in Huck's arms, as if to make sure she didn't run over him.

Huck blinked. "What's going on with your face?" was the first thing that came out of his mouth, in response to how much makeup she was wearing. He thought she looked much prettier when she hardly wore any at all, and so the harsh question just came spilling out of his mouth.

Cherry rolled her eyes. "Well, _gee_, Huck..."

"No, no, I didn't mean for it to come out like that. Is that how much you have to wear when you're on T.V. and stuff?"

"Yeah, pretty much," she replied, and she turned her head towards the large van pulling into the space a few feet from hers like she was expecting it. "I have to go, Huck. I'll see you around." She brushed past him, and she sounded so sad that he felt upset for her.

"Wait, where are you going?'' he called. The camera crew that trailed his celebrity friend bumped him and knocked him into a tree with all of their equipment. TomTom flashed his teeth at them and released a growl, but Rhonda only scoffed and swiped the hound to the side with her foot.

Huck stood, brushing the leaves and clumps of dirt off his arms. He peeked around the trees to catch a glimpse of where Cherry and the production team were going, then grabbed his dog by his leash. _Where are they going, and why does Cherry have a whole camera crew following her? _he thought to himself, and supposed that she could have been shooting a new music video or something. He snuck around the park and pretended to occupy himself by walking TomTom, but he really wanted to get to the bottom of what was going on. Just like Patty Persimmon, his favorite fictional heroine.

He noticed a guy with jet-black hair standing by the picnic table that Cherry was approaching: now who was that again? He didn't recall seeing him around anywhere. Wait, could that have been - no, it couldn't be. He could have sworn that the guy looked exactly like the famous actor Caleb Fig. "Cherry, I'm so glad you came!" the stranger exclaimed, and wrapped Cherry into a tight hug. She looked like she desperately wanted to pull away from him, but something hindered her from doing so.

"Caleb," Cherry kindly greeted, her tone forced. The large camera lens positioned directly on her face made her feel threatened.

He took her by the hand and led her to the nearest table. "Listen, I feel really bad about what's happened between us. You hate me, I know, but I'm hoping that we can just leave that in the past and move on."

Cherry sat with her arms folded. She obviously didn't buy his gimmick, a smirk creeping on her face and aimed to hurt his feelings. Meanwhile, Huck continued to spy on them between the trees, going unnoticed.

"You really think it's that easy, huh?'' Cherry replied. "Like you can just apologize and then everything will be better? I find it hard to forgive you for what you've done, Caleb."

"What more do you want me to do? I've apologized to you countless times, I've tried calling you, texting you, sending you voice messages and emails - how else am I supposed to go about this?"

"Well, maybe you should have thought about that before you decided to do what you did!"

Caleb became frustrated. "Are you talking about with Candace? I've told you that I've tried talking to her about being nicer to you, but I tell you, she doesn't listen. I only laughed to try to lighten things up, not to hurt you!"

"Then what's your explanation for what you and Delia did the night I received my platinum record, huh, Caleb?"

He was confused. "What are you talking about?"

"Oh, don't pretend like you and she weren't talking about me behind my back the entire time; I may not have heard you, Caleb, but someone around you did, and you know how word spreads around here. Plus, from what I've heard, you had nothing positive to say about me except for the fact that I had earned another lump sum of money."

"Do you really believe that? People spread rumors all the time, but that doesn't mean that they're true. You'll actually take their word over mine?"

"Considering the other little things that you would do, yes, I would. How do you expect me to react when I hear that my boyfriend thinks that my accent is annoying and that my rival looks and performs better than I do?"

"Do you honestly believe those lies? I never said that!" he claimed.

Cherry whipped out her phone. "Oh, really? Then how would you explain this?" She pulled up a video someone recorded with their cell phone of him sitting with Delia. The video wasn't the best quality, but it was clear that the two figures recorded were him and her, both of whom chattered and laughed with one another in the audience while they whispered harsh things about Cherry: that she wasn't as talented as some of the other rising stars in Berry Big City, that she messed up in her performance, that she was a country bumpkin turned pop star. His face was washed with guilt while he watched it.

"I..." was all he could muster.

"What, 'you can explain'? Because what you said about me is crystal clear, so what was going through your head at that moment, huh? What do you have to say about that?"

He still wouldn't say anything.

Outraged, Cherry stood from the bench. She was almost startled by the cameras surrounding them; that quickly, she had already forgotten that they were there, and she'd said more than she was supposed to. Revealing some of her personal struggles wasn't the ideal thing to admit to the public, but Rhonda became so cheeky with entertainment that Cherry knew that was the kind of material she wanted for her reality show.

"Cherry!" Caleb grabbed her by the arm so she couldn't leave and wouldn't let go until he received a sharp slap right to the face. Cherry's hand left a deep red print on his cheek, and it must have hurt, for he felt his face and cringed in pain. He repeated her name, though as if his feelings were hurt more than his ego. He watched her bitterly.

"Don't ever speak to me again!" shouted Cherry, and she stormed back across the park and towards the direction of the parking lot when she noticed Huck watching through the trees. "Huck, I thought you left! Were you _spying _on me?"

Huck couldn't get a syllable in before Cherry dashed off and the cameramen ran after her to obtain footage. She pushed the cameras away and told them to leave her alone, and Huck turned around to find Caleb still standing there, shaking his head and still rubbing his bruising cheek while one cameraman stayed behind to record him. Caleb spotted Huckleberry next and gave him such a vicious glare that Huck thought it a good idea to get out of there himself.

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**Fun fact: So far, this story is equivalent to a 200-page book! I find it hard to believe I've written this much!**


	14. An Unasked Favor

**Here's chapter 14, and happily it didn't take me a month to update this time. This one's a little on the shorter side, but the next chapter will be much longer (I was actually going to combine the two at first, but that would've been way too long). Anyway, hope you enjoy!**

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The clinking of the glass jar was the only noise that filled the silent void within the apartment. All else was quiet except for the coins that jingled at the bottom of the glass container, the ambience so meager that the pennies, nickels, and dimes were like an alarm. Strawberry emptied her paycheck into the pickle jar, which sat on the worn counter, and carefully placed her dollar bills on top of the coins.

"There, that should cover this week's rent. I do wish that the bills weren't so expensive: I don't have any extra money left over to pay for groceries, supplies, or anything else. Wait" - she stuck her hand into her pocket - "I found another five dollars." She sighed to herself. "If only we could find another hundred of these."

"Well, that's what you get for living the city life," Blueberry chimed, wiping their plastic dishes and putting them in the dishwasher. The plastic cups and silverware contained warning labels advising their users not to put them into dishwashers, but the girls didn't heed the warning. If the dishes didn't melt, they were fine - that was their standard.

"But it's hard paying for everything myself. I'm the only one employed, and it isn't easy for me to support six people, six dogs and a cat, _and _pay for the additional costs when I'm only making minimum wage: the medicine, toilet paper, food. Most of the extra money is coming from tips I've made, so some help would be nice." Strawberry glanced at Lemon and Raspberry, who were both still pouting on the couch. "Any luck with _any_ of you yet? We've been here for almost a month and a half now," she added.

"No, not yet," Lemon admitted. She absorbed Strawberry's defeated expression. "We're trying, Strawberry, really. If only some of these salons and boutiques would budge and stop being so picky with who they want to hire; apparently they only want people who are experienced in their trade, and Raspberry and I are, of course, but I guess they don't believe us since we've never attended any schools in relation to our jobs. This just stinks," Lemon placed her hands on her cheeks.

"Well, perhaps you can look for occupations in a different field. It doesn't necessarily have to be what you're the most experienced in. Take it from Orange: she isn't as tech-savy as some others, but that isn't hindering her from applying for a job at an electronics store. We should hear from her in a little while," Strawberry said.

"Oh phooey!" Raspberry complained.

Strawberry sucked in her lips. "Blueberry, Plum? Any luck yet?"

"Huck and I should start working on our story as soon as possible - he just needs to get some things sorted out at his job before we can begin. Once we write it, we should be able to pull in a few checks," Blueberry replied.

"What a relief." Strawberry turned to her purple-haired friend. "Plum?"

Plum still sat hunched behind her laptop computer, the same area she'd sat for most of their stay in Berry Big City. She was too occupied with looking up dance sites that she'd entirely blocked out what her friend had said and too bored with her life to separate herself from the internet. Their complex wasn't the most entertaining place in the world: while Strawberry worked and the others left for job interviews, the remaining girls at home were stuck with doing whatever household chores the others couldn't complete. What joy it was to iron clothes, sweep the floors, and clean up after their pets' waste - _not_. No, Plum had better things going on in the cubicle of her mind, things that made her feel like she was accomplishing something with her life. Dancing was the priority of her heart, and she would give almost anything to teach a class or to take one herself; to slip on her pointe shoes and dance her troubles away, presenting herself as a different person besides herself, one that had a far more interesting life, a fantastic tale to tell, a daring adventure. But Plum's life was just, how should she put it? _Boring_.

"Plum?" Strawberry repeated a second time.

Her friend's vocals successfully traveled into her ears this go round. "Oh - right. Sorry." She closed her computer. "Still haven't found anything yet either, but I'm sure I'll find something soon."

"Not at this rate," contradicted Blueberry.

"Huh?"

"Don't think I don't know what you've been up to on that computer. You're still researching dance sites, not looking for a job! Plum, do you want to be able to go home and see your studio again or not?"

"Well, look who's been snooping around once again! Detective Muffin, checking other people's browsing history when they're not looking! Very clever, Blueberry, very clever," Plum spat.

Blueberry gave Plum a nasty look that Strawberry had never seen her give before. "Ha, well excuse me for trying to be the responsible one around here." She swiped Plum's computer away and tossed a newspaper in her lap. "I would advise you to start job-hunting now; your computer is coming with me."

"And what do you plan to do with _my _laptop?" Plum countered.

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe I can clean Custard's litter box with it. Or even better, we can sell it to make a bit of money since you don't want to contribute to the household funds. I'm sure anyone would love a nice laptop with a high resolution screen and a five hundred gigabyte hard drive to boot."

Plum froze. "You win, Detective Muffin. You win." She held up the newspaper and, for the first time, began to read it.

Orange entered through the screened front door.

"Oh, did you get the job?" Strawberry piped.

Orange shook her head. "Negative. After making me stand on hold for an hour-and-a-half, the owner of the store decided that he didn't need any more employees at the moment. I tell you, these people over here are complete jerks!" Orange roughly shut the door.

"I'm sure there's something out there for you, Orange, and for the rest of us, too. You just have to keep looking," Strawberry reassured.

"Huh, right." Orange went to the walk-in closet to retrieve Marmalade.

Plum, on her punishment, skimmed through the newspaper that was forced upon her by Blueberry. Some baseball player hit a record home run, some dealer was selling used cars, blah, blah, blah. Nothing remotely interesting at all, which is what she expected from reading such an old-fashioned mechanism of the news. How could Blueberry put up with reading this junk? All it contained was sports, articles on government officials, and crossword puzzles, all of which she never fancied. Not even the ad on the Berry Big City Ballet interested her - wait, hold up. Plum put on her imaginary glasses to focus on the image. Was it real? Was it really real? She stopped drooling over the image to read the piece of information displayed beside it. If the newspaper was telling the truth, the dance school was holding company auditions that afternoon, and to make things better, they were only charging a ninety dollar audition fee, a pretty sweet deal in comparison to the usual one hundred fifty dollar participation fee. Plum had to take up this offer, there was no doubt about that. She'd need a new leotard, a brand new pair of pointe shoes, probably a pair of soft shoes for good measure, oh, and some pink tights, too. It was official, she was doing it. But one thing made her thoughts spiral backwards. Where would she get the money?

"Wow, Plum, you're eating up that newspaper like it's cake," Raspberry commented. The others suppressed giggles.

Plum stealthily raised her head, wiped the bit of drool coming from the corner of her mouth. So she actually was drooling. "Uh, no, I think I just found a job, that's all. One that I think will benefit us all."

Strawberry was beaming.

Okay, now back to her secret plan. The money issue. She'd emptied her piggy bank back in Berry Bitty City to help offset some of the expenses, so that wouldn't work. She certainly didn't want to take up on Blueberry's offer and sell her computer, so she automatically chucked that out the window.

A ray of the sun's beams shined through the glass jar on the counter and hit Plum in the corner of her eye. She moved to get out if its tracks but moved back into it when something else hit her. The pickle jar was just sitting there, showcasing its fancy bills and coins. She could spot about five twenty dollar bills just from where she was sitting, and there were still bills of other values to be had beyond that. Where she and her friends lived, money was color-coated according to its value, so twenty dollar bills were pink, five dollar bills were lilac, ten dollar bills were blue, one hundred dollar bills were golden, and so on. So if Plum just sorted it all out in her mind, she'd be able to figure out how much Strawberry had put into the jar. Her eyeballs scrambled like eggs trying to count all of the money inside the jar with her mind, trying to see around its rounded corners without letting her friends notice her looking at it as if it were prey. Strawberry placed a total of three hundred twenty dollars in there, just barely enough to afford the costs for the audition. But it would have to suffice.

Strawberry grabbed the jar, sat it on top of the refrigerator, and pushed it to the very back. No! The precious treasure! "Say, I need you guys' help with a little home improvement. The window in my and Blueberry's room is entirely too creaky, so I need someone to fix it before the moisture seeps in. I'd hate to call the repairman."

The other girls followed Strawberry as their nonchalant chatter echoed down the hall and into one of the bedrooms. Plum perked as if she'd just worked magic. They were gone! She could grab the jar!

Plum tip-toed to the fridge to fetch the jar; she kept an eye focused behind her back to watch for her friends in case they came back, but that never occurred. Just that easily, the jar met her fingertips, and it silently scraped the top of the refrigerator as it made its way down.

A surge of guilt rose in Plum's stomach. It was wrong to take Strawberry's hard-earned cash. It'd taken her _weeks_ just to earn this much, and the bills really did need to be paid: they were running very low on the money that Princess Berrykin had given them. Maybe she should put it back... Oh, nonsense. If Strawberry knew what Plum was going to do with the money, she'd understand, wouldn't she? Strawberry was the kind of person who hardly ever became angry, and she was aware of how much of a passion Plum had for dancing. If the situation were switched around and Plum were the one with money and Strawberry desired to buy new cookware to appease her appetite for baking, Plum wouldn't mind if she dipped into her savings a bit. Plus, they were friends after all, and this is what friends did for one another, just like lending and borrowing clothes and makeup. Same thing. Sort of. On the bright side, by becoming part of Berry Big City's dance company, Plum would earn a substantial amount of money, more than enough to pay Strawberry back and to pay off some of the other bills. Yes, that was quite true.

Her decision final, Plum slipped through the door, not once to be heard by her friends.

* * *

Huck scratched some items off his checklist while he observed the utilities in his pet hotel when Plum suddenly came bursting through his front doors. The hairs stood on his neck when he heard the abrupt noise, but he relaxed when he saw that it was only Plum, who was red as an apple and panting for breath.

"Plum, what are you doing here? I thought you would have been working by now," he casually stated.

"Oh, you know, I thought I'd just stop by and visit one of my _best_ friends in the _whooole _wide world," Plum replied.

"Okay, what do you want?"

Plum regained her missing breath. "Why would you assume that I want something?"

"Because for one thing, you never come to me for any thing unless there's some thing that you want. Second, since when have you ever referred to me as one of your 'best friends in the whole wide world'? Last time I checked, the other girls had already filled that void."

Plum slumped her shoulders. "Okay, okay, you got me: I do need a favor from you. It's only a little one, not something that requires a lot on your part. So will you do it?"

Huck sat down his clipboard. "You need to tell me what it is first before I can agree to anything," he informed.

Plum shuffled her feet on the welcome mat. Would he even understand how vital this audition was to her? "Alright, the Berry Big City Ballet is holding company auditions today, and I was hoping that you could drive me over there - after I buy a few dance supplies, that is," she confessed. "It really shouldn't take that long: you can drop me off, the audition might be an hour tops, and then you can drive me back to the apartment. Simple as that."

"Are the others aware of this plan?"

"Well," Plum hesitated, "no, but if I make it as a part of their company I'll get paid to dance for them. That counts as a job, right?"

"But you don't know for sure whether or not you'll actually be accepted; and where will you get the money? I don't mean to come across as rude, but with the situation that you and the girls are in, can you even afford to participate? Don't those dance auditions cost money?"

"Never mind that - I have the money." Actually, she had Strawberry's money, but it somewhat counted as hers if she promised to pay her back. Right? "So will you do it or what?"

Huck tugged at his bangs. "I don't know, Plum. I have a lot of work that needs to be done around here, and I can't put it off any longer. I've already procrastinated on it enough helping you and the girls out and driving you places, so I really need to catch up. I'm sorry, Plum."

"But, but," Plum faltered, "Huck, don't you believe in following your dreams?"

"Of course I do, Plum," Huck answered.

Plum stepped closer to him. "This audition means everything to me; if I don't take this opportunity now, there may not be another one like it. Come on, just this one time."

"Plum, I've told you: I'm too busy. Sorry."

Plum widened her eyes and gave him a puppy dog look. "Pleeeease?" she whispered, clasping her hands together and looking him right in the face.

He was annoyed but finally gave a nod of consent. "Fine, but this is the _last _time. For now, at least. My van is parked outside."

Plum nearly wrung his neck with how tightly she hugged him. "Thank you, Huck, thank you, thank you!" She began to head towards the entrance, and Huck swiped his keys off his desk.

"How did you even get here if you need a ride to the company?" Huck asked once the random thought struck him.

"I ran like an Olympian," Plum replied.


	15. Shattered

**It's been a long time since I've updated, I know. I've had other obligations, so this story was pushed to the side and remained untouched. However, I'm still as determined to finish it as I was a year ago, so rest assured, I'll still return even if it's been a few months since I've posted a new chapter.**

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Huck pulled his van onto the circular driveway of the Berry Big City Ballet; Plum sat in the passenger seat, mesmerized, still clasping the money jar in her hands. The expenses for her danceware were more than she'd anticipated: the leotard itself was a mere forty dollars, and that was the sale price; the pointe shoes were another eighty, the soft shoes an additional fifty, and the pink tights a costly twenty. She also had to purchase bobby pins and a small can of hair spray, and then there was still the audition fee itself, which left her with less than fifteen dollars with the help of sales tax. Basically, she'd spent every last penny of Strawberry's money, and there remained that little pang in her chest from doing so, but she was confident that she'd make it through the audition, and that's what made her feel better about it.

Huck shifted the gear into park. "Good luck," he told Plum as she left his van.

"Thanks, but I don't think I'll need it," she proudly proclaimed.

The Berry Big City Ballet was just like she'd pictured it: beautiful, grand, professional-looking. Other dancers stretched in the corners and used doorways to force their legs into six o'clock arabesques and also sat in second splits on the floor. They watched Plum as she entered the building but looked away when she offered them a pleasant smile in return.

Plum eventually found the front desk, where quite an already long line of dancers stood to register for the audition and receive call numbers.

Plum finally made it to the front line and came face to face with an obese middle-aged woman, or catepillar, rather. "Hi; I would like to participate in Berry Big City Ballet's company audition at five today," Plum cordially stated.

Based on the plaque displayed on the counter, the woman's given name was Trudy Peachleaf. She licked her fingers and grabbed one of the forms off her desk, then slapped it on the counter for Plum to grab. "Next!" she hoarsely called.

Plum sat on the floor beside some of the other dancers and observed the form. She thought it advisable to start stretching herself so her muscles would be conditioned enough by the time the class began.

The form required a lot of her personal information, much of which she never really considered unless she had a doctors appointment or something similar to it. Date of birth, height, weight, body measurements, bust measurements... the list went on and on. She hated that she was only five-two in comparison to most of the other female dancers being in the upper five-foot range. Her friends were all about the same height as she with the exclusion of Huck: he had skyrocketed in the last couple of years, though he was really only five-seven or five-eight at most. To them, though, he was considered tall. Ugh, and her weight, too. She hadn't weighed herself in a while, so she had no choice than to go to the scale on the other side of the room to find out how heavy she was.

Plum placed her bare feet on the scale: ninety-eight pounds. She'd lost quite a bit of weight since Berry Bitty City's drought, probably about ten or more pounds. It was no wonder considering that most of her clothing was now very loose-fitting, a direct result of how much she and her friends starved those last couple of months.

"Everyone please turn in your audition forms at the front desk and grab your call numbers: the audition will begin in ten minutes," called Trudy, and Plum quickly scribbled the rest of her information onto the sheet and turned it in. Trudy passed her a sticker to stick on her leotard. It made her number seven, a fairly lucky number if she must say so herself.

All of the dancers were instructed to enter the classroom to finish warming up; the room had slick wooden floors and built-in barres lining the walls plus lone ones sitting in the center. Plum managed to snag a spot on the very front barre to increase her chances of being noticed by the instructor and the judges.

For the first time, she realized how skinny she was when she inspected her reflection in the crystal mirrors. Her ribcage became more noticeable through her black leotard, and her waist had gone down in size, too. Her legs were sticks, lacking the muscle definition they once had when she still danced on a regular basis. However, the other female dancers were still leaner than her. They had longer legs and arms and very petite waists and thighs, yet they still looked like they weighed no more than eighty to ninety pounds. Did they starve themselves to stay that small? Plum thought that they looked sickly at first sight, but then she couldn't help but envy them. It was vital that dancers had the proper physique to obtain lead roles and perform in the shows, and the ballet masters wouldn't dare choose someone they thought looked pudgey. Even though her body looked somewhat healthier than the other dancers', she couldn't help but wonder if she looked plus-sized to them, even though she'd already lost ten pounds. As she looked in the mirror, the extra weight seemed to grow on her.

A human girl with a periwinkle bun stood at the barre next to Plum. Plum smiled at her and tried to make small talk, discussing her excitement for the audition and how much she loved the Berry Big City Ballet, but the girl completely disregarded everything she said. "Hey, would you mind scooting down a bit? My friend wants to stand there," she requested of Plum.

"Oh - uh, sure." Plum moved down a few feet to the second barre, regretfully sacrificing her position for the girl with a very tan skin complexion who came in a few seconds later. She didn't bother to acknowledge Plum after she willingly gave up her spot for her, for the girl saw Plum move to the next barre, and the other with the periwinkle hair did the same and didn't say anything else to her. The two of them looked straight ahead at themselves in the mirror, and while Plum was hurt that neither of them cared to thank her, she didn't take it to heart and continued to stretch her own limbs.

As the audition neared, more dancers piled into the room and filled every space imaginable in the large studio, but most of them migrated to the front barres where Plum stood and crammed themselves into the spaces. The elongated barre was meant to fit six, yet ten dancers compressed themselves to make do with the limited space. Plum was at the end, and they gave her so little room that she was arms-length away from the dancer in front of her. The girl practiced grande battements and swung her leg to and fro, just barely avoiding socking Plum in the nose with her leg when she did them from the back. She kept going and continued to get closer to hitting Plum's face each time she swung her leg, which forced a flustered Plum to leave the front barre and head to one of the ones in the back. They were crowded, too, but she at least had enough space where she wouldn't receive a mouthful of ballet shoe every time they did a combination.

Plum grabbed her foot and pressed it to the back of her thigh just as scrawny beetle-man entered the studio. He carried a walking stick though his back was erect, strands of gray hair spilling out the sides of his scalp but refusing to grow anywhere else, and a few others, judges perhaps, followed closely and took a seat in the metal chairs beside the mirror. Plum surmised that the man was frail, though he didn't act like it: he smoothly strode to the head of the classroom and laid his stick on his designated wooden bench.

"Good evening, dancers," he began. "I want to welcome you all to the Berry Big City Ballet's first company audition for the new season. If this is your first time at our studio, my name is Brothmer Beetle, the artistic director and head master of this dance school for the last thirty years." He went on about his many achievements and detailed where he danced prior to his current position as ballet master, and through his gloating, Plum found nothing but admiration for him. Such a wonderful figure in the dance world, accomplishing so much during his years on the earth! Plum wanted her own years to be well-spent, and she felt this audition was just the beginning.

Brothmer finished his habitual bragging and regained his walking stick. He used it as a ballet barre and placed his free arm in fifth en bas, a lower positioning of the arm that was partially curved at the elbow. "First position," he demanded, and the dancers, including Plum, each placed their heels together and turned their feet outwards. He performed a quick port de bra and ended up with his outside arm in second position. "Demi plié, and stretch. Demi plié, and stretch," he quickly instructed, incorporating the movements with his arm. "Grande plié, and stretch. Front port a bra; up. Back port a bra..." he continued the combination, which covered all five positions of ballet excluding the third, and included various tendus and balances that began to throw Plum off track. Brothmer managed to demonstate the entire combination in under thirty seconds, and Plum hoped that he would go over it again when he left his station and instead turned on the stereo for the music.

Soft classical music filtered through the speakers, and Plum, anxious, relaxed at the sound of the melody and relied on her muscle memory to remember the combination. She'd done this plenty of times, it was just that she hadn't taught a ballet class in a such a while that the combinations didn't stick to her mind as well as they used to.

The dancers performed the warm up while the instructor circled the room, occasionally fixing some of their arms and telling them to turn out their legs more. He approached Plum, who flashed him a toothy smile, but he only grabbed her chin and jutted her face towards her outside arm before heading to the next dancer. Plum caught sight of the judges scratching something onto their clipboards.

Plum could feel her muscles working; they felt so unused. In spite of stretching daily to keep herself in shape, her muscles grew cold and stiff and didn't take her as far as they used to. The tendus made her arches cramp, and she so desperately wanted to shake out her feet, but she was aware that action wouldn't give Brothmer the desired impression, so she dealt with it and let her feet suffer. The combination ended with a balance in passe, and by time Plum released her foot from creating a p-shape alongside her knee, she was already sweating like crazy, as were the other dancers.

She became confident in herself afterwards for remembering all of the steps in such a short time frame, and if she could do that, she believed that the remainder of the combinations would stick to her mind like bubblegum. She straightened her posture more than was normal to demonstrate her rejuvenated confidence.

The rest of the barre exercises lasted a mere fifteen minutes before Brothmer allowed them to sip some water and instructed the girls to put on their pointe shoes. Plum removed the lid from her cardboard box to reveal the shiny satin of her pointe shoes. She slipped them on in a hurry and began to stand, but something was off, and she realized what it was once she looked down at her feet: she'd forgotten to sew on the ribbons and elastic. Plums's heart skipped five beats, and in a frenzy she scoured her satchel for a needle and thread, but none were to be found. By now her heart was racing: without the ribbons and elastic, she wouldn't have the necessary support from her shoes to dance en pointe. She turned her head and noticed other girls swiftly sewing their shoes at the last minute, and the one next to her had already finished and was about to stand.

Plum caught her by the wrist. "_Please _help me! I need to borrow your needle and thread; I can't finish the audition without my pointe shoes!" she softly panicked. The girl with cream-colored skin contemplated the thought, then looked at the other girls who were finished and started going to the center of the floor. "Two minutes!" Brothmer shouted, and with a slight huff the girl sat and retrieved two needles and dental floss and handed one of them to Plum. She took Plum's right shoe and sewed like a ninja while Plum haphazardly sewed the left one. She could never sew like Raspberry, now wishing she'd taken lessons from her friend. In Berry Bitty City, Raspberry had always sewn her pointe shoe ribbons for her, and it never dawned on Plum that she should have learned to do it herself. Her stitches were lop-sided and the ends of her ribbons frayed from not being glued; her helper finished her other shoe in about a minute and had already left to find a spot while Plum was still sloppily sewing her second ribbon on the one she held. She finished in the knick of time but didn't save enough to put on her shoes, and Brothmer called her out for still sitting on the floor when she should have been ready for the next exercise. Embarrassed, Plum tossed the supplies towards her satchel and jogged to the back of the studio to put on her shoes.

The ballet master gave the next combination while Plum tied her ribbons, and she didn't know that she'd missed it until she stood and the dancers on the front line were already standing in preparation. Conveniently, she'd be able to watch them to learn it for herself so she could see what she missed. She rose in relevé in her pointe shoes to help break them in, but _oh _how they hurt. Then it came to her mind that she'd forgotten something else that was integral: toe pads. Their gummy texture protected dancers' toes from being damaged by the rough shoes, and especially since Plum's shoes were brand new, they were more capable of inflicting harm upon her feet.

The music count indicated that it was time for Plum's line to do the combination, so she bit her tongue and swallowed the growing pain on her toes. Passe relevé, passe relevé, tendu front, tombe, pas de bourree, plié, pirouette. Balancé, Balancé, tombe, pas de bourre, plié, triple en dedans pirouette. They then had to repeat it on the opposite side with their turns going towards the left, and Plum's shoes were already murdering her feet. They bunched her toes together and rubbed off their skin, and she could feel where the blisters were going to form if she continued to dance in shoes that weren't broken in. She prepared herself to pirouette on the right side when the box of her shoe slipped against the floor and bent her ankle out of place. It was excrushable, though not damaging, as she could still move it, and kept doing the exercise until the music stopped. From the corner of her eye she caught the judges scribbling on their boards again.

"Now reverse it," commanded Brothmer, and from there the combinations only progressively got worse. They increased in speed and level of difficulty in which the dancers really had to think on their feet. Many steps had to be completed in quick counts of eight, and Plum was becoming so exhausted that she didn't know how much longer she'd be able to keep up. Regardless, she tried to move to the front line to get the instructor's attention whether if she knew the combinations or not; she started walking to stand next to the periwinkle-haired girl she'd spoken to at the beginnng of the lesson, but the girl scooted to the end to ensure that Plum wouldn't make it to the front. Her feelings squashed, Plum returned to the back line, the same spot she'd had the entire audition, in the dimly-lit corner. She massaged her feet through her shoes and pulled on them to relieve the pain, but it was short-lived. A small blood stain made its way through the satin, and she tried to rub it out with her fingers to no avail.

"Fouettes in the center. I want triples for each turn or more, if possible; no singles or doubles. I want you to end it with a rise in sous-sus with your arms in fifth," Brothmer further stated, and let the auditioners mark the combination for five seconds before he started the music.

The first line went, then the second line. The third line went, and as did the fourth. The fifth and final line finally came, Plum's line, and she tried to compose herself to get this combination right. No singles or doubles? It was hard enough to properly do fouette en pointe with such slippery shoes on, but the fact that she had to turn more than three times in between didn't always come easily to her.

She prepared in fourth position and plied, a drop of sweat sliding down her brow. The music started with its fast tempo, and when the instructor shouted, "Five, six, seven, eight!" she and the others began to turn to the musical piece. Her toes still aching, Plum was able to do the fouettes, but she could only do them at a much slower speed than the other dancers. They effortlessly whipped their heads around and turned an infinite amount of times in only a few seconds while Plum lagged behind.

"Keep up with the music!" Brothmer yelled directly at Plum, and she stopped so she could start again. "Don't wind up!" he fussed a second time, then walked to her and fixed her arms while the other dancers continued to turn.

Plum nodded grimly and resumed the combination. She could do the fouettes overall, but she was only doing single pirouettes in between and saw how the ballet master was watching her disapprovingly. _Do the triples, Plum_, her innerself said, and she turned at a much faster pace to achieve her goal. She turned so rapidly that she lost her spotting to keep her balance, which caused her to twirl like a spin top round and round, round and round, falling out of her turns until she felt a slight pop in her left shoe and collapsed onto the floor. Her ankle twisted itself again, though this time she felt like she actually injured it this time. She looked down at her shoe to find that the one she'd sewn lost its dental floss that secured the elastic, and she massaged her ankle in agony when Brothmer approached her yet again.

"Are you alright?" he asked, but he didn't sound too concerned.

"I'm fine," Plum lied. "Can I just finish the rest of the audition in my soft shoes?" she pleaded.

He let out a disgruntled sigh and nodded, then dismissed her from the combination.

The end of the audition approached where the dancers were required to do the final exercises across the floor. Plum limped around in her soft shoes: she had twisted her ankle, but nontheless that wasn't going to stop her from finishing her audition. It pained her just to stand on it, so she tried to keep as much pressure off of it as possible to preserve it for the steps.

The one hour class ended with a difficult grande jete piece from the corner of the room. Plum's injured foot flopped all over the place while she danced; she just couldn't control it, and it began to swell. She wound up dancing like a T-rex, to her chagrin, and winced when she landed entirely too hard on her left foot once she reached the other side of the room.

"That will be all. Thank you for participating," concluded Brothmer, and he and the judges left the studio to discuss their thoughts of the dancers in a private room.

* * *

Plum sat on the waiting bench in the lobby and tried to wiggle her toes. She could barely move her left foot because it was so swollen, and once she took off her shoe, which was nearly impossible, it looked like a bloody nightmare. She dabbed it with toilet paper, but it only minorly helped with the bleeding.

The strings of her heart were yanked and left on the ground. She'd made a fool of herself, a total fool! If only things had gone right -

"Can numbers twenty-three, forty-one, twelve, fifteen, and four enter the studio?" called one of the judges, and the other girls looked amidst one another in worry before the ones with the called numbers got up.

Plum strained her ears to listen to the murmuring. She couldn't comprehend anything they said except for a few mumblings of names until the girls came out with huge smiles on their faces chanting that they'd been accepted while waving white sheets of paper. Plum's heart froze. Would she be called?

The same judge came out and asked a few other girls to enter the studio, none of which were Plum. They, too, came out of the room holding pieces of paper, screaming and shouting themselves hoarse.

"Will numbers twenty-five, two, eleven, thirty, eighteen, and seven please enter the studio?" Plum's heart rose into her throat, and she leapt up with excitment and headed to the room.

* * *

Huck sat in his van with the driver's seat reclined and his feet propped onto the dashboard. He'd literally been sitting there for over an hour waiting for Plum to finish her audition, which to him seemed a lot longer than what she proposed. He grabbed his half berry-shaped keychain off his rearview mirror and twirled the chain on his index finger to try to entertain himself, gazing at the pedometer to see if he had to feed it again. He already had to pay a dollar and twenty-five cents to sit in this parking space, and the time ticked down another six minutes before he'd have to feed it another quarter. He turned off the radio in that it was getting on his nerves and cranked up the air conditioning.

He mindlessly flipped the keychain over and over in his hand until he thought of its former owner, Cherry, whom he hadn't seen or heard from in the last several days. He hoped she was all right, though he couldn't be certain after she was chased around by cameras and caught him spying on her and Caleb Fig. After his stupid decision to do that, he wished that she would forgive him but couldn't muster up the courage to call her and apologize.

In the distance, he saw Plum trudging through the doors holding a white sheet of paper. For some reason she was limping, too far away for him to see the expression on her face. He took down his feet and placed his keys into the ignition when she opened the passenger door and sat beside him.

"So did you make it through the audition?" he began to ask, and he turned his head to find her eyes and cheeks stained scarlet with tears rolling down her face.

"They told me they think I'm not ready," Plum cried, and wiped her face with her arm.

"But you're a great dancer, Plum! Why wouldn't they accept you?"

"They said that my technique needs a lot of work, that my arches lack definition, that I have a slight swayback - it was terrible!" She looked for something to bury herself into but didn't have anything but her satchel and pointe shoe box.

He took the facedown white paper off Plum's lap that was wet with her soggy thumbprints. "Then what's this sheet of paper for?'' he asked.

"It's an advertisement for one of their upcoming performances," Plum said. "They invited me to see it so I might 'learn something from the other dancers.'"

Huck pulled her into a hug. "I'm sorry, Plum." She blew her nose into his shoulder. "There'll be more auditions, I'm sure."

"But that's not the worst part," she continued. "They said that I must have fractured my ankle when I slipped, recommending that I see a doctor about getting a boot to help it heal. I don't have the money for that!"

He looked at her feet and immediately saw that the left one was puffy. "_Oh. _If it helps any, I think the boots are relatively cheaper if you go to the clinic on the east side of town," he offered. She pulled away from him and held down her head. "Plum, is there something else that's bothering you?" She wouldn't look him in the eyes.

She released a new set of tears, much thicker and heavier than the first. "I spent Strawberry's money, okay?!" she suddenly blurted. "She worked so hard for it, and I just took it to spend it on this stupid audition - it's all my fault! And now she's gonna be so mad at me, and the bill's due the day after tomorrow!"

"Plum, you didn't!"

"Well, I did, and now I have to suffer the consequences. I can't face her or the others!"

He began pulling into the street. "You have to, Plum, to set things right."

She didn't speak any further, reluctant to go home but aware that he was right: she did have to set things straight.

* * *

Huck had to help her up the stairs to her apartment, for she struggled to climb them on her own. She still had a case of the sniffles, but most of her tears subsided the closer she reached home. Plum safely tucked the pickle jar under her arm as a way to conceal it, regretfully turning the key into the lock.

"Plum! Where have you been?" Strawberry jumped from the couch and lowered her eyebrows into a frown. She spotted the jar tucked beneath her friend's sleeve. "You did do it, didn't you? You took my money!"

Plum's dark eyes began to water again. "I'm so sorry, Strawberry," she began, and placed the jar on the counter for Strawberry to observe what was left. "I'm really sorry!"

Strawberry emptied out its contents. "Four dollars, Plum? _Four_ dollars? I can't pay the bills with this! This was supposed to cover some of our rent, our meals for the next week, our pillows and blankets because you complained of being cold - you spent it all! Why would you do this to us? You know we need that money to get through living here. And what did you spend it on? A _dance_ audition?" Strawberry's eyes turned crimson as if she was holding back more emotions than she showed. She threw the newspaper that Plum read earlier into the trash, and by now the other girls heard the commotion and filed out of their rooms. "Do you even care about going home?" she said under her breath, her voice growing quiet.

Huck stood as a bystander viewing the whole thing: Strawberry was fuming, though she was trying to downplay it, and Plum was crying a waterfall while the others reacted negatively once they knew what she'd done with the money.

"I just wanted to help out with you and the girls," Plum whimpered. ''I thought that I'd make it to the company so I could help pay some of the bills, but now thanks to me we're broke and I have a fractured ankle." Strawberry observed her ankle, and this news only worsened her mood.

It made Huck feel uneasy to see his friends feuding, to see Strawberry look red as her namesake and like she wanted to burst into a million pieces. Plum, down and broken-hearted, weeping and gathering her bearings to receive any punishments coming her way. He didn't like it - no, not at all.

Strawberry kept her eyes on the jar as if more money would magically appear into it, and she banged her head on the counter when nothing happened. She focused her attention on the brick wall out their kitchen window and kept it there to silence herself. She exhaled in and out to try to calm herself.

"Strawberry, I'll cover the bill and whatever additional expenses you need, okay?" Huck stepped away from the door and made himself known in the apartment. The girls looked in surprise as if they actually hadn't noticed he was there.

"Really?" Strawberry raised her head, her eyes glossy.

"Yeah; just tell me how much you need and I'll write a check for it," he explained.

Huck really wasn't expecting this sort of reaction from Strawberry, for she grabbed him by his face and kissed him several times on the cheek. "Thank you, Huckleberry! I don't know how I can thank you!" she cried, then hugged him tightly. The rest of the girls followed the same pattern and hugged him, too, though Blueberry stayed distant.


	16. The Letter

**Author's Note: Originally, I wasn't planning on posting this chapter just yet, but I couldn't resist doing it today given it's the one-year anniversary since I've first posted this story. **

* * *

Orange Blossom pulled the dogs by their leashes when they tried to escape her grip. Each leash was color-coated according to which dog belonged to whom, but now they were so tangled that they became a puzzling twist of the rainbow.

"Be reasonable now, and sit still!" Orange commanded. The puppies intensified their desire to run into the street and moved with such force that they actually began to pull her with them, but in the knick of time she tied their leashes to the nearest pole so they couldn't escape.

If only they weren't so full of energy. It had built up in their kanine legs after being locked up in the girls' closet for so long, and the squalid stench that emitted from that area made them never want to open the door. Marmalade, Pupcake, and the rest of the pack incessantly barked all day, howled at night, and whimpered and pawed at the door for whatever time was left in between. The neighbors often complained of hearing them and reminded the girls that they weren't allowed to keep pets, and at first the girls played the situation off and tried to convince their neighbors that they were probably imagining things. When the neighbors threatened to report them, contrary to their oppositions, the girls begged them to keep hush about it and offered to do things for them here and there if they promised not to tell. Strawberry would occasionally bake treats for the tattle-tail pair, and Lemon and Raspberry alternated turns with watering their plants - whatever it took for their neighbors to keep their mouths shut.

Custard, on the other hand, had the advantage of being a cat and pleasured herself in knowing that the dogs were locked up, using her newly discovered free time to stretch out on Strawberry's pillow and nap her cares away, knowing that she wouldn't have to put up with being chased by those ferocious animals. The straight strands of her polka-dotted fur, however, stood every time one of the girls released the dogs from their confinement to take them out for a walk, and she dashed under the covers whenever she even sensed that they were around. Strawberry had to consistently use a lint roller to get out the shedded fur that Custard always left in her sheets, but it never bothered her as if she was used to having to put up with it.

"You guys really want to go for a run _that_ badly? I was kind of hoping that the thirty-minute walk would have been enough." Orange felt bad for them, and a part of her heart wanted to free them of their leashes and let them roam free - but she knew that scenario could never end well.

She opened the p.o. box to get the mail and shut it closed. They received hardly anything except for a crumpled up ad and a turquoise envelope, which she turned over to read the sender's address. There wasn't a return address, just her own. She eyed the mysterious envelope suspiciously and held it to the light to try to see through it, and meanwhile the pets continued their journey of escaping their leashes.

"Scouty! Bad boy! I can honestly say you're getting more and more like Blueberry every waking moment," she told the master escape artist, who was actually halfway through to ridding himself of his collar. She tied him back up and returned to the envelope.

It couldn't have been _that _mysterious, right? Just because a random letter showed up in the mailbox, it didn't guarantee that someone was out to get her... did it? _Oh, pish posh, Orange, stop acting so paranoid and open the thing! _said her inner self, who seemed to grow an influence on her.

She tore open the envelope to reveal a rose-embroidered letter that smelled of actual roses. The bottom contained an official wax seal of a berry with small text beneath it that read "The Berry Big City Palace." It was from Beatrice!

"'_Dearest Orange_,'" she read,"'_I am most fortunate for the generous gift that you delivered to me those few weeks back, which shows me that you are a kind and noble citizen and a great help to Berry Big City. Be that as I am still battling the brunt, your kind deed has reminded me of where I stand with the citizens and has enabled me to realize that there are still docile ones out there like you. Please accept this note as a token of gratitude from my kingdom,'_" she continued. "'_On another note, the cookies you gave me were delightful - you must give me the recipe some time. Best regards, Princess Beatrice.'" _The princess drew a little smiley face at the end of her signature, and Orange just left her mouth agape with not a single word to fall out of it even though she had no idea how the princess obtained her address.

* * *

Blueberry tidily organized her writing utensils together: pens, pencils, paper, extra paper. When a pencil rolled out of place she fixed it on the jump, which she thought ironic of herself because her bookstore had been known to stay unorganized for several given days at a time whenever she planned to rearrange it.

She sat at her desk and listened to the ticking of the clock. It wasn't really a desk, only two wooden fold out tables she'd found at a flea market, but together they formed what she considered a writer's workstation, a place that allowed the creative flow of unique ideas and untold stories, an ocean of words. She just had to patiently wait for her writing partner to show up - Huck, of course - before she could indulge in the ambience.

One forty-five. He was running a bit late, but that was nothing new. The clock's hands grew louder, for she was the only one at home: Strawberry was at work, Lemon and Raspberry were searching for work, Orange was out walking the puppies, and Plum had found a job at a carpet store, which was most unusual of her. Ever since she stole Strawberry's money to satisfy her own selfish pleasures, she consistently stayed on her feet and did whatever she could to be of assistance. This involved kissing up to Strawberry, who had already forgiven her after Huck kindly offered to pay their bills, in which Plum stayed behind her every waking minute to see if she needed anything to get done. If the sink was full of dishes, Plum cleaned them. If the apartment needed to be dusted, she dusted it. If the toilet needed to be cleaned, she cleaned it, and it only continued from there.

A familiar knock came at the door, which from years of hearing she knew was Huckleberry's. "It's open!" she called, and he let himself in.

"Sorry I'm a bit late; some customers came to the shelter right when I was heading out," he explained.

"No, it's fine. Just come and sit so we can start working on our story." Blueberry pulled out the other chair for him.

Huck looked at the table, confused. "Wouldn't you prefer to type our ideas like we usually do?"

"My laptop battery's low, and I'm only allowed to charge it once a week. Strawberry's rules. Now sit!"

"Okay, sheesh!" He sat beside her and took a sheet of paper and a pencil. "So what exactly are we writing about?"

"Probably the usual: mysteries seem to be our strongest point, so we should probably stick with those. However, we really need to take this one seriously, Huck. No goofing off and most certainly no distractions! This isn't one of those little writing contests we'd enter from magazines; this is an actual book, and we want it to be so good that it instantly becomes a bestseller," Blueberry raved.

"I don't know, is it possible for someone's first novel to become a bestseller? It sounds intimidating," Huck countered.

"Of course it's possible! I've heard of it being done... once or twice. Now help me think of a plot. I want it to be fresh but retrospect, entertaining but intriguing. Something... unheard of."

He twiddled the pencil between his fingers. "We've covered pretty much every mystery genre out there. I don't think there's anything else besides murder, robbery, or a missing persons case."

"Sure there is! Um..." Blueberry racked her brain, coming to the conclusion that he was right. "Fine, scratch that. We'll write a different book instead. Erm... a romance novel?"

"_Romance_?" Huck dropped his pencil.

"Yeah; that's what kids are into these days, isn't it? All you have to do is include a vampire or a zombie in there and they'll be gushing all over it."

"It sounds like we're copying everyone else if we stick with that," Huck admitted, scribbling crooked doodles on his sheet of paper.

Blueberry threw back her head. "Then what do you have in mind besides what we've already done?"

"I was thinking we could write an action/adventure novel; say we have two protagonists, a boy and a girl, two girls, two guys, whatever, who are trapped in an alternate universe searching for a golden pendant (or whatever we could use for that), and the twist to it is that it's all in their imaginations, that they were thinking of it the entire time," Huck proposed.

"Hm, sounds interesting," Blueberry said, "but not interesting enough to publish as a standalone book. Think bigger, Huck, broader, and stray away from the elementary stuff."

"And you think writing about vampires is the better option?"

"Hey, I don't like them either, but we have to take what's currently popular on the market into consideration - that's what I read in one of my self-publishing books. If the theme is already well-known, then readers will be more open to try a book with a similar plot. It's a marketing strategy - it works all the time!"

"But if I'm going to write a book, I want to at least write one that's original," Huck muttered, and Blueberry restrained herself from chucking one of the pencils at him.

"Alright, alright. Just write down whatever ideas you have and I'll do the same, then we can read whatever we've thought of so far. Got it?"

They jotted every idea that popped into their minds for the next ten minutes, but they tossed them all in the end.

Just then, Orange came in with the dogs and tried to force them through the door, but they still wanted to roam the outside world before returning to their concealment.

"Heel! _Heel_!" she shouted above the excessive barking, and Blueberry and Huck left their station to assist her. They each split the dogs into groups and forced them back into the closet, and Custard, who was just rounding the corner, darted back to where she came from and hid in Strawberry's bed.

Huck exchanged sorrowful looks with the puppies he'd rescued those few years back and remorsefully closed the door behind him while they stuck their paws under it. "Don't keep them locked in there forever, okay?" he simply said, emotional.

Blueberry turned away from him. "Orange, we need your help: we're trying to think of some ideas for our new book, but we're completely stumped. Can you think of anything that might work?"

Orange rubbed her chin. "I'm not much of a writer. When's your deadline?"

"Uh, I don't know... maybe the end of September?" she really hadn't thought about that part.

Huck spun around. "We have to write a whole novel in that short of a time? September starts in less than two weeks, and then we still have to have an agent look over our story and send it to the publishers," he said.

"Well, we'll just have to work on it all throughout the day and night; I'll work on one chapter, you'll work on another. Beatrice's auction starts in December, so we need to pick up the pace," Blueberry explained.

Orange began to contemplate. "If you only have about a month to write it, I would recommend writing something short like a children's book. They're easy to write, and you always hear of them becoming bestsellers. Maybe Lemon can help you illustrate it," she suggested.

"Orange, you're a pure genius!" Blueberry high-fived her. "Huck, it looks like we have our story!"

He only half-grinned in response. She _always_ rejected all of his ideas. Well, there was that brief time when she agreed to all of the ones that were mystery-related, which was his expertise field, but in regards to everything else, she always hated it. Yet with the very first idea that Orange gave her, she was all for it. He was aware that Blueberry was the picky type when it came to writing, but sometimes she went overboard. In most cases, she made him feel as if he weren't good enough, and the rest of the girls didn't exactly treat him any better - they left him out of everything and had a frequent tendency to forget about him when he was present. Being the only guy in the group, it was understandable in a sense, but it felt as if he wasn't important, that if he'd suddenly left for whatever reason they would still be just as happy and dandy without him.

Orange held up the turquoise envelope.

"Who's that from?" Blueberry asked.

"Princess Beatrice," Orange proudly replied. "She actually sent this to thank me for the gift basket even though it turned out to be a total disaster in the end. You know the details. She mentioned how much of a good citizen I am and even wrote that the crummy cookies we made were delicious!"

Blueberry clapped her hands. "Orange, this is great! Do you know what this means for us? We might just be a step closer to redeeming ourselves to the princess, and then if the children's book works out and we make enough money for the soil, we'll be more than capable of obtaining the cure!" she squealed. She took the letter from Orange and read it for herself, becoming all the more enthusiastic when she read the princess' swirly handwriting. "We're on the right track, Orange; the princess seems to be the most comfortable around you, so it's your job to keep us in the clear in regards to her - I don't know if she would be interested in seeing the rest of us. Ah, this is the kind of motivation I need for my writing! Say, I'm starting to get an idea!" She handed the letter back to Orange and dashed to her and Strawberry's room to fetch Custard. The feline whined and complained while she was carried to the den but didn't go about fighting back. "Huck, meet the protagonist of our new story!" she exclaimed, sitting Custard on the fold out tables which wobbled beneath her paws.

Lemon and Raspberry entered the dwelling, and by the looks on their faces, they probably still hadn't found a place of work. They smelled like the sun and looked as if they'd trudged through the desert for forty years.

"Lemon, Raspberry, guess what?!" Blueberry enthused about the letter and her and Huck's plans to write a children's book, and the two girls forgot their sulken moods and celebrated with her. Lemon agreed to illustrate the book and followed Blueberry to the table, sketching a few rough drafts of their subject, Custard, who behaved like she was bored in that she couldn't understand a single word they were saying.

Meanwhile, Orange left them to their excitement and went to the quiet of her and Plum's room. She examined the letter and read it over and over. It felt unreal to read the penmanship that was so similar to Princess Berrykin's, to smell the sweet scent of the roses that surrounded Beatrice's palace. This was a morsel of hope for her and the girls, even if it was just a seedling that hadn't yet sprouted. For once, she felt like Strawberry always had: a bit too optimistic about everything. The feeling seethed through her veins and pushed the corners of her mouth into a smile, and she retrieved a thumbtack from one of the drawers and stuck the letter to the wall. She wanted to remember this moment, cherish it, even if it didn't guarantee success. She just had to believe it would.


	17. Betrayals

**Author's Note: At last, I'm finally getting past the halfway point! At this rate, if this were an actual book it'd be around 260 pages. There's still lots more to come - I just have to work my butt off to make that happen. **

* * *

Strawberry's shadow remained glued to the concrete steps, flat, mishapen, and mimicking her every gesture. The intense light pouring from the clouds caused it to darken, and Quince's lean figure cast a shadow to join hers, transforming it into an oddly shaped lump. He stuck his fingers behind her head to create bunny ears, and she chuckled a tad and swiped them away before he sat to keep her company.

"Hey," he greeted.

"Hey," Strawberry returned, removing her tangled ponytail from her shoulder. "Mr. Frogsteen finally let you have a break, huh?''

"Yeah: the old guy isn't completely out of his wits. Well, unless you would count him threatening to stick a rusty spatula down my throat if I stay a minute longer than my time limit allows." He said it like it was nothing.

"Why is he so tense lately? More than usual, I mean. It's like something's gotten a hold of his conscience and is taking him captive, so to speak," she noted. "It must put a great deal of stress on his blood pressure to find the energy to yell like that."

Quince leaned on the sizzling glass. "It's that time of year again," he declared, "the time for Berry Ben's Burgers' annual inspection. Frogsteen gets so freaked out and tells everyone to spend the entire week cleaning the restaurant, but somehow this place can never surpass an eighty-seven, not that the customers care. You know, I heard a rumor from some of the others that old Frogsteen once shot the scoreboard with a bb gun when he received an eighty; the inspector returned a day or two later with a shiny new score to shove in his face, and that, my friend, is the one time his gunk-colored skin resembled a tomato," he concluded. "Wouldn't that be a wicked thing to capture on camera?!"

"How... interesting to know." He seemed to think it a remarkable sight he wished to behold, though she, on the other hand, would grow nervous if the story were really true and if she had to witness it.

"So how about you?'' Quince added.

"Hm?"

"What's been up with you lately? I mean, you're already naturally a bit out of sorts, no offense, but you seemed even more off than usual that day you practically blacked out in the bathroom. I think you owe me an explanation," he nudged her shoulder playfully.

"I don't owe you anything, I'm afraid," she responded. "I told you I was a little warm, nothing more."

"Aw, come on! We're friends, aren't we?"

Strawberry released a considerable dosage of carbon dioxide. Clearly he wasn't going to let this go, and that topic was the last thing she wanted to think or talk about at the time being. "I was like Frogsteen: I was having an off day, if you'd call it that, but in a slightly different aspect."

He appeared to gain understanding. "Ooohhhh... I get it. _Girl _stuff. I think I have the memo now."

Strawberry lightly beat the wall with her hand. "Sure. That's it. '_Girl stuff._'" She didn't want to entertain the topic, nor did she feel like correcting him on his misconception for him to start asking her another set of personal questions.

The back door came flying open, forcing Quince forward and nearly throwing him down the steps.

"Dang it!" he shouted, massaging the back of his skull and looking behind him.

Frogsteen stood behind him, wiping his face with a moist rag. "Watercress, I'm not gonna tell you again to stop laying on this blasted door. I'm starting to comprehend why you operate the way you do," he croaked, which, being a frog, seemed fitting for him, but it was only figurative. "Shortcake, I need you to take orders from the desk; Honeydew needs someone to help deliver our meal packages." Strawberry silently obeyed and could barely squeeze by him to get to the said destination.

The eatery was more packed than what was typical, not a particularly good state for an inspector to visit. The staff worked all day to clean the space, but the customers messed it up again in a heartbeat by sticking wads of chewing gum under the booths, children spraying one another with ketchup and mayonnaise bottles, and old men wasting water everywhere while they choked on their pills.

The clerk deemed Honeydew swam amidst a river of sticky notes. She gave Strawberry the one stuck to her left hand, the office phone wedged between her ear and her shoulder, then motioned for her to pick up at least five more notes once Strawberry was about to depart. Correspondingly, the tiny papers flew off the work space due to the uncovered air vent, so many flung themselves into the ducts and remained unfound.

Thus, Strawberry escaped through the side of the restaurant and was faced with the decision of which vehicle she'd use to make her deliveries. The cartons of goods felt warm beneath her palms while she mounted them onto the back of a motor scooter. A car was available for her to execute her orders, that being the faster, most likely more convenient means of transporation; however, Strawberry never was one to like driving cars. True, she managed to obtain her license at age twelve, but such a vehicle was too powerful for her, too heavy, unlike her handy motor scooter. Either way, Berry Bitty City's dirt roads were narrow and led to one big circle, so a car, as a matter of fact, wouldn't have been an ideal choice for her anyway.

She lifted the helmet towards her head only to change her mind when she saw how worn and tattered it was. She'd have to do without it to save her locks from the risk of getting mites.

Securing the boxes with the leather straps, she swung her leg over the side and chugged the motor a couple of times to get the scooter's engine to start. With that, she unlocked the chain on the gate and drove onto the highway.

* * *

"Custard, be still for once!" Lemon cried while adjusting the feline's bow for the septillionth time. The cat hated this sort of attention what with sitting under those stupid scorching lights while her human's obnoxious friends wouldn't keep their hands off her fur coat. The one with the blue hair snapped photos of her with a cell phone, and that awkward boy she never liked for bringing those confounded dogs to her hometown studied her and scribbled notes on a piece of paper, appearing concentrated. What was this conundrum about?

"Are you getting enough pictures of her, Blue? She won't stop licking herself!" Lemon took her paw away from her mouth. What was this madhouse, not letting a cat lick her own paw?! Custard swatted at the girl against her owner's orders. Long ago, oh, she couldn't remember how long: it was back when she was nothing more than a kitten. Her human warned that she'd have her claws surgically removed if she kept scratching people and bullying the family's Maltese, and be that as Custard couldn't understand the spoken language, she understood simple words, in most cases only if they came from her owner. It was that horrid moment when she had her claws clipped right down to the nub that she heeded the warning, never again to place so much as a scratch onto the human flesh and even not on that of the Maltese.

"Ouch!" Lemon screamed, sucking on her palm. "Bad kitty! I think we'd better leave her alone for now. How many photos did you get?"

Blueberry drew a resigned breath. "A few, but not close to enough. Maybe we can pick up where we left off tomorrow?"

"I can't put this off any longer. If you and Huck want the illustrations for your story, I need to start working on them as soon as possible. Oh, I hope my paint hasn't dried!"

Custard leapt off the cheap fold out table, bringing everything that was on it down with her. A loud _plunk! _rumbled the floors, and her tail caught hold of the cord of the lamp and yanked it downwards, shattering its bulb.

"There goes my lamp," whined Raspberry, and she picked up the broken pieces and cradled them in her arms like an infant.

Lemon glanced at Blueberry's phone. "No, no, fail, ew, no - what is _that_?" She swiped through all of the images on multiple accounts. "Blueberry, none of these are usable! I can't do much of anything with these!"

"I know, I know: I lack the skill of a photographer. But I wouldn't say it helped when you kept blocking Custard the entire time while you were trying to position her."

"Huh. Funny, she only behaves when Strawberry's around. Whenever Strawberry's gone Custard acts like she runs this place. Can you believe she used my hairbrush as a cat toy? My soft, expensive brush with the mahogany handle! Ruined!" Like Raspberry, the blonde went on a rampage about her supplies amidst remonstrating against Custard.

Huck shuffled through the picture gallery on his mobile device. "Say, I have a handful of pictures of Isabella on my phone; do you think you can use these instead?"

Lemon peeked at his screen. "Isabella - right! The little kitten you showed us on our first day here," she recalled, watching the slide show. "She's a bit young, but I think she'll work - I just pray that she's not the rambunctious type. What's wrong with her paw in this one?" One of the kitten's paws was slightly bent in the opposite direction, and she held it up to prevent stepping on it.

"She must have hurt it pretty badly before I rescued her. Poor girl, she can't walk without limping. So what do you guys think? Will Isabella work as our new model?" Huck suggested.

Blueberry gave him a sly smirk, sighing to herself. "Leave it to Huck to save us in a time of crisis _yet again_. She's perfect, Huckleberry."

He was about to comment but was interrupted by Plum entering the apartment. "Hey, people," she resounded in her usual manner. However, the drop of melancholy in her voice was unmistakable. She presented multi-colored samples of mismatched carpet to the others. "The store was getting rid of these, so I came up with the idea for us to put them to good use before they were thrown away." She herself noticed that none of them matched when her friends eyed the carpet reproachfully. "We could give them to the dogs, at least. Oh -" she pulled a sealed envelope out of her pocket - "be sure to give this to Strawberry when she returns."

"Is something important in here?" Blueberry held it to the light and spied a few coins inside.

"It'll offset the costs that I owe her and help knock out a bill or two. Just make sure she gets it, okay?"

"Where did you manage to come across this sort of money?'' continued Blueberry after opening the envelope to uncover over a thousand dollars.

"I took your advice and sold some of my belongings: my laptop, my dance shoes, my dance bag, my leotards, even my boombox. They're all in there." Plum's voice cracked.

Blueberry's did the same, matching her friend's hurt tone. "Plum, those items meant everything to you! How could you just give them up?"

"I knew that it wouldn't come easily. I'm just as heartbroken as you would assume I am, but I had to correct my mistake and make things right for the sake of us, for the sake of Berry Bitty City." She removed her hat, slipped on her light jacket that was draped over the back of the couch, then headed back for the door.

"Just because that one audition didn't work out, it doesn't mean that nothing else will! Don't you ever want to dance again?" called Blueberry.

Plum grabbed the door handle. "No, I don't." With that, she was gone.

* * *

The tires grunted against the gravel as they chewed through the tiny rocks that flew and somehow gravitated into Strawberry's shoes. Her body ached, her arms sore from steering and maintaining the balance of the scooter for so long. She'd successfully delivered all of her orders with the exception of one, and might she add that she'd done so with pretty decent timing? Because of her wise choice of the motor scooter, she was able to slice through traffic without dealing with the hassle of the waiting game. She iterated the final address over and over to welcome it into her mind like an invited guest.

Her scooter met a pathway to a private property. She could only travel so far before she was faced with a gate that prohibited access to the elaborate condiminium displayed approximately twenty feet behind it.

Strawberry tugged at the bars to let herself in - they were locked, typically. Her finger found the buzzer that accompanied the structure.

"Who is it?" a lower voice, that of a guy, came from nowhere.

Strawberry observed the property to see from where it came, only finding herself to inspect the outdoor camera that recorded her. So it was back to this again. "I have a food delivery for a, uh, Mr. Falberry from Berry Ben's Burgers," she recited into the intercom. The person didn't reply.

No one came out of the condiminium, so she was about to leave the carton on the ground when someone called "Wait!" before her action took root.

A guy jogged from the front door and opened the gate for Strawberry. "Thank you," he said while handing her the money for the food after taking the carton from her, and she feebly started backing away when she spied that the face beneath the baseball cap belonged to Caleb Fig.

"So you do remember me." He pulled her back with an invisible rope. "You're that girl from the party last month! What was your name again? Stace? Star? Swirl? -"

"Strawberry," she corrected.

"Right, 'Strawberry.' Cherry's talked about you a lot. Say, are you two really close?"

"Uh, I guess you could say that."

"Good, good. Listen -"

Strawberry migrated back to her scooter. "I'm sorry, but I have to get back to work. It was, um, nice talking to you again Mr. Fig."

"'_Mr. Fig_'? Wow, that's a new one! Look, I know you're in a hurry, but I just need to ask you a tiny favor. Just..." he looked down at his food, "talk to Cherry for me, okay? Tell her I'm sorry for what I did and convince her to take me back."

She needed to get out of there: Cherry had warned her about him. "I can't do that - I'm sorry, really. I need to go." She started the scooter.

"Okay, what do you want? Money? Fame? Whatever it is I'll give it to you if you'll just talk to Cherry for me! Wait, is she with someone else?"

"No, not that I know of -"

"Then just casually bring me up in a conversation. I'm sure the subject of boys is brought up between girls often, right?"

Strawberry winced. "I'm not very influential in the 'boy department' if that's what you take me for," she stated. She and the others never talked about boys. Ever. Well, there was that brief conversation that ended very awkwardly that one instance, but besides that they never had. They weren't the type to call them "cute" or give them other terms that should only be applied to animals, but she couldn't shake the thought that they started to change their opinions about boys as they grew older. How else could she explain the little giggles her friends released when they flipped through Lemon's magazines? There was even that brief point when all of them had a tiny crush on Huckleberry when they were fifteen, but that lasted no more than a week and then subsided mainly because they wanted him to take one of them to the Valentine's Day dance. He was a no-show because he was terrified of dancing, of course, and left all of them disappointed but not surprised.

Cherry differed from the others: she never talked about guys either, but she did manage to get a boyfriend who she's now broken up with and who desperately wants her back. After that incident, though, Strawberry didn't think Cherry was ready to take on another relationship if another one was possible for her.

For the third time, Strawberry tried to escape the property, confused by her own musings.

Caleb retrieved several one hundred dollar bills and threw them at her feet. "Here! Take it all! There's plenty more where that came from. Do you want more? I'll get you more."

Strawberry poured over the money on the ground. She scooped up at least seven hundred dollars, and he was about to toss more money for her to also take like a beggar. She acted by instinct like an animal, and that disgusted her. How much she desired to have it in her hands she didn't know until then. Greed rushed through her; her mouth filled with saliva from the feeling of remorse mingled with the utter disgrace of her actions. Her heart told her to leave the bills on the ground, her body telling her otherwise. She was frozen in her tracks.

"Ah, I see we're reaching an agreement. How much is it that you want?" he soothingly said, which sounded wrong but right, comforting yet threatening. He opened Strawberry's other palm and placed two hundred, three hundred, eight hundred more dollars in her hand. "Will that cover it?"

Her lips were about to form a "no" and a "yes" simultaneously, so she just stood there looking dumbfounded, unknowingly muttering nonsense. He gave her another five hundred. "Hold on," she said. "I, I can't do this without asking you a favor of my own." What was she saying?! "I'll talk to Cherry for you if you agree to give a couple of my friends jobs," she claimed. Her mind sent a signal that she'd bargained for too much, that the deal was about to end here, the precious money gone.

Caleb scratched his chin. "Hm, what are their names?"

"Lemon and Raspberry."

He pursed his lips before nodding. "Yeah, I think I could make that happen. How does twelve bucks an hour sound?"

Strawberry suddenly found herself with shortened breath. "R-R-Really?"

He nodded again approvingly, presenting her his hand. "Deal?"

Strawberry shook it, her tongue going dry.

"No shenanigans, now. I'm betting on you, Strawberry."

"Yes, yes, of course!" She climbed onto her scooter again and was unable to keep it balanced by the way she shook.

"You'd better give me their phone numbers so I can contact them," he jokingly reminded.

Strawberry took the note with his address on it and wrote her friends' numbers on the back. He took it from her, smiling, and resided into his and Candace's condo after locking the gate.

Strawberry didn't know where she was or what she was doing there anymore. The money still sat in her palm, remaining perfectly pressed bills. She pocketed it to take it off her mind, but now all she could think about was Cherry, whom she'd just betrayed. She warned her about Caleb, she warned her! She'd specifically said to stay away from him, and she failed to listen because she was too naïve to think that she would somehow manage to bump into him again.

Ever since Cherry had met her, Strawberry was the only one she said she fully trusted above anyone else, the other girls included. She'd told her everything, her darkest secrets, shared her pain and turmoil, for Strawberry to just sit and betray her later. The moppet that everyone turned to for guidance was just like everyone else, prone to falling under temptation and capable of making irretrievable mistakes. She wasn't perfect like they made her out to be. She'd agreed to turn on her friend for money, and that was the last thing she ever imagined herself doing.

Her deed was harmless, could it have been? She only needed to talk to Cherry about Caleb, and that's all she was required to do. Caleb didn't exactly mention that she had to make him and Cherry get back together, did he? The answer lie in the soil; the soil contained the key. Once their hometown was restored and Cherry regained her teaching job, she wouldn't have to give a flying flip about him.

Strawberry peered at the condominium once more. Maybe she should give the money back, tell him that she changed her mind? The fate was in her hands.

Her cell vibrated in her pocket: a sudden call from Raspberry. "Hello?" she answered. Her eardrum was electrocuted with screams.

"Strawberry, you - Eeee! - you won't believe what just happened! It's - it's -" Raspberry kept losing focus, so Lemon took the phone from her. "We were just contacted by _Caleb Fig _and asked to help him on the set of his new show! Can you believe it?! He just called about a minute ago! I'm freaking out of my mind!" she filled in between screams with Raspberry and a couple of the others in the background.

He'd already done it. He'd done his end of the deal. "That - That's sounds great, Lemon. I'm very excited for you and Raspberry, I really am."

"He said that we get to start in a couple of weeks! I need to do my hair, Raspberry needs to design some gorgeous-looking outfits for us, and -" Lemon went on.

Strawberry put them on speakerphone and listened to their celebratory squeals the whole way back to Berry Ben's Burgers.


	18. The Princess' Tea Party

**It's been, what, since October since I've updated this story? My apologies: life has gotten in the way of my writing, but if I'm still trying to make time to work on this story, I must still care about it enough to continue writing it after almost two years. Enjoy... **

* * *

_Zing! Ping! Zing! _persisted the noise that invaded Orange's slumber. She grumbled into her pillow and turned over to her other side. She was too occupied enjoying her dream about an enchanted nectarine that granted her every wish that unleashed its slices to unveil her own personal flying contraption. Sweet, sweet dreams.

_Ping! Ping! Zing! _it came again. Orange stuffed the corners of her pillow case into her ears to block it out. _The workers must be doing construction on the street again_, came the nectarine in her dream, which opened one of its slices to reveal a soft blanket. _Go back to sleep_, it said, and that's the only thing that Orange wanted in the world.

_Bonk! Bonk! Bonk! _Now the floor shook, and with each thud her body was tossed in her bed. On the fourth _bonk!_ she fell out and hit the floor. The nectarine disintegrated into the distance, and she fell in her dream coincidingly with real life.

"What's the big idea?!" she grunted. Her legs were tangled in her blankets like a mermaid's tail, which she had trouble freeing herself of.

Plum was awakened by the sudden noises, too, glancing out the window. "Isn't it too early for anyone to be working outside?" In fact, it was still dark out. "Three a.m.? Who the gooseberry works at three in the morning?" She reached over the edge of her bed to find her boot, but Orange gestured that she didn't have to worry about it.

"I'll check it out to see what's causing the noise," she volunteered, finally ridding herself of her sea creature body. She raised the blinds and unlocked the window. Their neighbor, Mr. Currant, was hammering what appeared to be a large sheet of metal onto the frame of his window. The sky was obscured by heavy clouds and street lamps, and like Plum had mentioned, the atmosphere was still shaded with black.

Orange climbed out to the tiny balcony where the generator was stationed. "Excuse me?" she called. _Zing! Zing! Bonk! _He couldn't hear her. "Excuse me!" she yelled again. _Ping! Zing! Bonk! _"EXCUSE ME!" She shouted as loud as her voice would allow, and finally he turned his head in her direction.

"Morning, Miss Blossom," he greeted. "Don't forget that one of you is due to water our plants in the next day or two."

"Yes, I know," she replied, making him turn back to his work. "Hey - excuse me!" He lowered the hammer. "Um, I was just wondering... why do you feel the need to do that at three-fifteen in the morning? Can't that wait until later?"

"I'm afraid not. I need to take precaution." He sloppily hammered the rest of the square onto the paneling.

"Precaution from what?"

"Turn on the news," he simply said, and he fearfully ducked into his house at the sounding of police alarms and the flashing of blue and red lights.

Orange slipped through the window to find that Plum was missing and found the other girls all awake and squashing each other on the inflatable couch. "Put it on the news!" she ordered.

"I'm trying, I just can't figure out how this thing works." Strawberry fiddled with the remote before she could turn on the flat screen.

The TV's glow temporarily blinded them and stung their eyes. Strawberry clicked on the device to find the news station: an exhausted-looking reporter sluggishly read her lines while an image was displayed on the screen beside her. _"According to recent reports, the gang of shooters has separated to different sections of town. In this event of emergency, officials advise that you take the same precautions as you would with a severe storm: stay away from windows, bolt your doors tightly, and find a safe place on the lowest floor of your building or household that offers secure concealment. Above all, keep a weapon close by - it may be what could save your life," _she clarified. The telecast further displayed images of the six unlucky victims who'd lost their lives and the few sites that the convicts had already visited.

The girls jumped into a panic. Lemon and Raspberry ran in circles screaming, eventually running into each other and knocking one another out; Orange hugged a pillow and went to the farthest corner of the couch, as far away from the windows as possible. Plum hobbled around to find something to hide under, and Strawberry trembled but had enough sense to go to the back to obtain her cell phone. "We need to check on Cherry and Huck - let's hope they haven't had a run-in with the criminals!" She speed-dialed their numbers.

The phone hummed a bit, then she heard someone pick up the other end of the call. "That's awful! Is everyone all right?" Cherry said after explaining that she was out of town with Cinnapup. "I was supposed to return to Berry Big City today. Oh, this isn't good. I guess I'll have to stay in a hotel a couple more days until things clear up."

"We're fine, Cherry; we're all here and safe in the apartment," Strawberry replied. She heaved while talking to her. "Have you heard from Huck?"

"No," Cherry bluntly stated. "I think someone should call and check on him."

A series of repetitive knocks attacked the door. A light rain pattered on the windows, and a roll of thunder rode the street.

"It's the killer!" Lemon shrieked after waking up on the floor, grabbing the bunny slipper off her foot.

"Shhh!" Strawberry motioned for her friends to grab weapons, the worst ones imaginable at that. Blueberry grabbed a mechanical pencil, Plum found a random bandana, and Orange obtained a plastic cup. Strawberry removed her heavy-duty wooden spoon from the drawer and crept towards the front door. The person on the other side rapped even louder. "On the count of three," she whispered. "One... two... THREE!" She practically kicked down the door, and the hooded individual wasn't prepared for the girls' attack. They tackled him and started tumbling down the stairs, Lemon beating him profusely with her bunny slipper and Strawberry giving him several blows to the head with her spoon.

"Wait, stop, stop, stop!" the subject cried in a familiar voice. He removed his hood to reveal his well-known boyish face, the face of Huckleberry Pie. "It's just me!"

"Huckleberry?" Blueberry dropped her pencil.

"Huck is one of the killers?!" Lemon cried.

"No, I came here to check on you! You wouldn't answer your phones a couple of hours ago, so I assumed something had happened to you!" By now, he had a black eye and a bleeding lip that the rain washed off but couldn't prevent from swelling with more blood. The rest of him was soaked.

Strawberry helped him off the ground. "Huck, we're so sorry! We thought you were one of the criminals."

"So I've heard," he retorted.

Strawberry pressed an ice pack to Huck's nearly shut eye. "Is that better?"

"A little," he flinched. "Golly, Lemon, I think you broke one of my ribs with that thing!" he added, pointing to her slipper as she sheepishly hid it behind her back.

"You should have told us it was you at the door. There's no telling how much worse of a condition you'd be in had you not taken your hoodie off." Blueberry removed the paper from a bandage for him.

"I wasn't expecting to be beaten with a wooden spoon by not doing so. I'll keep note of that for next time." She crookedly stuck it to his eyebrow.

Strawberry's phone vibrated on the table. "Quince texted me saying that the restaurant is closed for today. Apparently the whole city's shut down until this issue is resolved," she announced after checking her message box.

"The only good thing that can come out of that is that I don't have to cut carpet today," commented Plum, still downcast.

The news offered a hint of good information: one of the suspects had been captured, but the other three were still on the loose.

"Do you think this is still because of Beatrice's announcement? I've hardly heard of any committed crimes around here until she decided to spill the beans on the soil," questioned Orange.

"We may as well take that hypothesis into consideration. From what I've read, Berry Big City was a relatively crime-free area prior to the princess' decision to release such sensitive information. Many assume that the crimes are taking place so the robbers can steal enough money to purchase the Preservation Soil; others speculate that they're targeting specific individuals for their money contrary to common belief. It's said that they don't want their money, but instead the criminals would rather have the wealthy citizens _dead _so they can't purchase the cure period. The situation can go either way. Whoever gains the soil will have a very prosperous life ahead of them, so it's not unheard of for the envious to try to rid them of that opportunity," Blueberry perplexed.

Strawberry showed concern for her pickle jar. "Perhaps we should open a bank account just to be safe?"

"I wouldn't recommend that we do. These days, banks are just as easily robbed as people's homes unless you have insurance, of course, and that's obviously not an option for us given our financial situation," Orange said.

"We'll have to find a safe place for our savings, then. The kitchen counter is too inviting for intruders." Strawberry took the jar and carried it down the hallway.

Raspberry raised herself off the floor. "Is it over yet?"

"We wish it was," came Blueberry.

"Wake me up when it's over: if one of the criminals comes inside, they'll think I'm already a goner and leave me alone." She laid back on the floor and stuck her tongue out to resemble the type of fictional dead person that was only showcased in poorly-made movies.

* * *

Hours had passed. The TV remained on the news until daybreak, the same report being given over and over with only minor updates. The kids had dozed off while anticipating the word of safety that had never arrived, and as a result they fell into a deep slumber.

Strawberry cracked her eyes open. It was past eight, the morning sun beginning to surpass the storm clouds and light showers. She stretched her limbs and released a yawn. "Guys, wake up. I think another one of the shooters was captured."

"That's a relief," Huck sighed. He scrunched his nose upon realizing that Plum's feet were in his face. "I guess now would be a good time for me to head back to the shelter. I don't think the suspects will roam the streets in broad daylight."

"Will you be all right on your own? We beat you up pretty badly out there," Orange asked.

"I should be fine - thanks," he replied, slightly embarrassed. "Keep me updated in case something happens." He stumbled over Raspberry on his way out.

Strawberry turned off the television. "That's enough of that for now; we could do without the repetition. Hopefully this issue will be resolved within the next few hours."

"Sounds like we're going on quarantine," Blueberry sighed.

* * *

It was all so grim. Too grim. The city she took upon her shoulders to protect, now with its morals tossed and its security in shambles. Every inch of its once held glory was imprecated with some of the most foul of sins, committed beneath the very tip of her noise and under the government of her authority, but, in due respect, they went unpunished and unclaimed, awaiting to be given an owner to bear the sufferings of its consequences. Such poor decisions, such vile words that can't be unspoken nor taken back.

"Your highness, the colonel and lieutenant have arrived. Shall I inform them that the meeting will begin shortly?"

"And the girl?" the princess inquired.

"We've tried to contact her, but it's unfortunate that we have not heard word from her."

"I cannot proceed with the meeting until the girl is brought here."

"But Your Highness -"

"_Bring the girl here, _or else this meeting will end in vain. It would be petty of me to send the officials back to their stations after such a wearying journey, would you not agree?"

The maid curtseyed. "Yes, Your Majesty."

"As I suspected. Now: the girl?"

* * *

On a second account, the girls were huddled at the entrance of their apartment grasping the same "weapons" they'd ambushed Huck with prior to his identification. The figure behind the barrier knocked for over five minutes and spied through the windows, which the girls blocked off, before he finally released a "Hello, is anyone home?"

Strawberry tucked her spoon into the loop of her belt. "He doesn't sound like a burglar."

"That's what he wants you to think," came Lemon, who, surprising them all, snatched the door handle free and aimed her slipper at the stranger. "Hold it!"

Hands raised in defense, he went along with the blonde's ploy but reflected amusement. "My, that isn't how one should treat a guest! All I am here for is to inform you of a bit of news."

"News? For whom?" asked Orange.

"For a 'Miss Blossom,''' the butler continued, giving Orange a fuchsia letter that contained a wax seal that she could associate with only one individual in particular. "The princess wishes to invite you to her tea party this afternoon; it's quite a grand affair."

Orange surveyed the note. "A tea party amongst this commotion? I don't think I'll be able to go. Tell Her Majesty that I'm honored to have been invited, though."

"She gave me strict orders not to return without you, miss. You are required to attend contrary to your oppositions."

"Are we all invited?" Raspberry chimed, sitting up and playing dead again when she was given a stern "no."

"We should be on our way - the princess awaits." A pair of guards, the same two whom Orange had helped pick out air fresheners, barreled through the others to lift her by the arms and carry her to the SUV parked on the side of the street.

"Hey!" Orange shouted. "At least let me get ready first!" That was a choice she'd soon regret.

* * *

"The meeting surely must begin soon, Your Highness," argued the colonel.

"It will any moment, Colonel - your patience would be appreciated." Beatrice surveyed the one seat that remained empty at the table of officials.

Boots and groans were welcomed through the court's wide mouth, typically accommodated by the familiar image of two guards dragging a kicking girl by the arms. They dropped Orange Blossom in the seat between the berrykin mayor of Sproutsville and the Queen of Berryvania, and across from her were Acorn Acres' governor and squirrel attorney. However, the man and woman seated across from her on the far left she couldn't identify, guessing they were also leaders judging by the others present.

"We shall begin," the princess announced, twiddling her scepter. "Before we get started, I express deep gratitude for your ability to be present at this sudden but urgent meeting," she went on.

There wasn't anything on the table besides documents, hence the elimination of the words "tea party" in place of "urgent meeting." Unless the butlers were about to bring in crumpets and sugar cubes on fancy silver platters, Orange came to the conclusion that she'd been set up. She caught the guests scanning her pallid ball gown and her bushy ponytail, coupled with the deep red blushing of her cheeks. This, clearly, was the fault of her beauty guru friends Lemon and Raspberry who'd insisted that she dress up for an event that required such a degree of formality in such short notice. Frankly, she just looked like an indignant five-year-old. Before she could protest or insert an argument edgewise, they shoved her head through an elaborate dress, and Lemon tried as best she could to straighten her hair, but it had a mind of its own and resisted the quick strokes of her flat iron. Therefore, the humidity shaped it into the dinosaur that it became.

"I'm certain everyone is aware of the tragic incident that occurred this morning, as well as the events that took place during the previous weeks?" continued Beatrice.

"Yes, about that," stood the stranger with the badged suit. "It's high time that Berry Big City takes militia action. If we continue to sit behind the scenes and merely watch these events taking place that we can otherwise prevent, it'll appear as if we're comfortable with this inexcusable behavior of the citizens."

"I follow," Beatrice said.

"I second Colonel Rowan's proposition. I must bring to your attention, Your Highness, that Berry Big City needs more military enforcement than the group of guards surrounding your estate. I'm talking foot soldiers lining the streets, a set of officers for each public gathering, enough of a security squad that is more than capable of handling these situations properly. We've reached the era that police officers alone can't get the job done anymore." The woman fashioned a similar suit as the Colonel minus the fifty or so badges, and eggplant locks spilled to her ears. "I also presume that if we create a more well-thought out prison system we can better contain the upflow of criminals running the streets. The closest one is located in Acorn Acres, and that is a mighty distance for the officers to travel."

Beatrice subtly nodded in agreement. "The prison cells need expansion to hold all of their inhabitants; the inmates need sanitary facilities, and, for Pete's sake, we need to at least make the prison systems for men and women separate," continued the lieutenant.

The colonel forced her back into her seat by way of pressing her shoulder. "That's enough, Ambarella."

"Are you to tell me that I don't have the necessary reinforcement to secure my own land?" challenged Beatrice.

"Of course not, Your Majesty. All I suggest is that you look into improving it. If we are to prevent further robberies and murders, this is the course that we should consider," Ambarella explained. She slid a sheet with an outline of the city to the princess. "The colonel and I have observed the city's layout, assuming that if we station officers at each of the highlighted points the town can remain under constant surveillance."

Beatrice's mouth contorted as if she were sucking on bitter candy. "Such a plan is too contrasting to my taste. I do not wish to go through with it."

"But Your Highness -" Rowan objected.

"No 'buts,' I beg your pardon. What kind of ruler wants her citizens living in fear of an always watchful eye? Why, no sane person can live peacefully knowing he is being watched throughout the day by a different security officer every time he crosses the street! There must be some alternative; I cannot imagine having many citizens left with my city being in such a state."

"This strategy will be applicable to _all _of the cities and towns, I must correct." Colonel Rowan turned the sheet into a scroll, tucking it into his pocket. He faced the rest of the members, including Orange, whose unwanted presence she caught by the others, leaning towards their consent. "Are the lieutenant and I wrong for introducing this method to obtain maximum protection for this city?" The members shifted in their seats, not one of them releasing a syllable to support his opposing views to the princess. Orange thought the idea wasn't a bad one, but in the end she found herself oddly taking the side of Beatrice. For once, the two of them were on the same page.

"Your and Lieutenant Ambarella's proposal deserves to be considered, as some of the convicts have attempted to escape to Berryvania," began the queen, who'd remained hush the entire meeting. "However, I coincide with the princess' concern for the well-being of the townsfolk. Our lives of contentment will no longer be fulfilled with the establishment of prison systems and armed forces." Even in the presence of Beatrice, the Queen of Berryvania was the most respected ruler during that period. When she spoke, everyone gave her their ears, and she was wise beyond her years which led to officials consulting her for guidance in their time of indecision.

"We are well aware of this, Your Greatness, but it is imperative that we execute this plan now before it's withheld from us. How can we continue to live a tranquil life if we aren't sure if we'll see the day to experience it?" the colonel proposed.

The officials uncomfortably murmured amongst themselves, Beatrice included. "I... am beginning to see where you're coming from," she dubiously admitted. "This meeting is adjourned; we'll resume at daybreak." Shaken, she quickly retreated into the corridor beside the room.

After the tense meeting, Orange stretched her throbbing legs to relieve them of their sleep-like sensation that made them internally prickly. The surrounding towns' government officials conspicuously held her in their sight while they passed, offering her introductions of who they were and where they were from in a staged manner, asking for her background in return just to get a hint of who the random teenager with the frizzy hair and prom dress was who mistakenly ended up at the princess' meeting.

The queen was the last to pass her, granting a warm grin and the first genuine handshake. "Orange, fancy seeing you here. I had to double back to assure myself that I wasn't imagining things when I saw you from the corner of my eye."

Orange curtseyed. "It's a pleasure to meet you again, Your Highness. How's everything in Berryvania?"

"It's faring well; it's a pity that the same cannot be spoken of this town," she replied. "How are you and the townsfolk holding up in Berry Bitty City? I must apologize for the hardship you all must be enduring given the status resulting from the drought. Is everyone all right? How is Princess Berrykin?" The Queen of Berryvania previously made bi-annual stops to the tiny abode, so it wasn't uncommon for her to keep tabs on the town's stories. She'd been invited as the special guest of their croquet tournaments and often placed orders from Strawberry's café although her calls came to an abrupt stop following the announcement of the natural disaster.

"We're managing," was all Orange could muster. She nor her friends had received word from Princess Berrykin for a stretched course of weeks, but they took her missed calls as a token that she was working to help them progress with their plan.

"I hope you don't mind my asking, but what on earth are you doing in Berry Big City at one of Princess Beatrice's meetings, of all places?"

"I'm still trying to figure that part out myself."

"Well, Orange, I must be on my way, but please keep in mind that if you and the others need any assistance, I will be more than happy to allow you and Berry Bitty City's citizens to stay in Berryvania," said the queen.

"I'll be sure to. Thank you, Your Majesty."

Seeing as the other members had successfully escaped, Orange didn't see any purpose in being at the princess' palace and thought to leave herself. Despite the odd occurrence, she was smart enough to distinguish that the princess had called her there for a reason that she still didn't understand. How odd it was for Orange to be invited to a governmental meeting, of all things, which Beatrice deceived her into thinking was an actual tea party. And that weird man and woman named Colonel Rowan and Lieutenant Ambarella, too, with their harsh formula to elicit peace for the towns, blind to the truth that no one was in favor of their crazy ideas but only mildly agreed because they couldn't contradict them.

The princess was probably playing her mind games again, and that heartfelt letter she sent praising Orange's generosity was more than likely a part of her scheme. She was cajoling her, that was it, giving Orange all the more reason not to rely on her unpredictability.

"Orange, dear, can I have a word with you?" The princess peeped her head through the doorway as a pea would stand out of a pod, concern written as her focal expression, seemingly longing to steer clear of Ambarella and Rowan.

A lump rose in Orange's throat.

Beatrice laid her sceptor on the desk, resting her palms under her chin. "I sense that you're clueless as to why I've brought you here again."

"I am, honestly."

"If you were attentive during the meeting, Orange, you should have gathered that I'm looking to find individuals to help me protect the Preservation Soil. I want you to be one of those individuals."

Orange lost her balance in her seat. "You want me to what? Isn't this where you're supposed to ambush me?"

"Funny. I am very much serious, sweety. This position is not one I wish to turn over to folly."

"But why me? Wouldn't you prefer to choose someone who's, I don't know, actually skilled in this kind of stuff? I can't tell you the slightest thing about how to protect the world's greatest treasure."

"You recall when I revealed the soil to you, do you not? You know information that everyone else does not, and if you go parading around chanting that you've seen it, you'll be a target because people will think you know where it's located."

Orange became tense. "I'll be a - a target? People will try to attack me?"

Beatrice nodded. "It is not difficult for criminals to compromise the system to gather information about you. You've told your friends about the soil as well, haven't you? If they let one word about the cure slip, you may as well count them as targets, too. Especially the blonde and the magenta: those two look like gossips, seemingly more prone than the rest of you. All it takes is for someone to wire your home with surveillance equipment, and you would never know that you were being monitored."

"Stop! Those are lies!" Orange cupped her ears to block out the poison left by those wretched words, but that same venom brought the horrifying truth to the surface: none of them were safe. Not the princess, not she, and not her friends. They all had a connection to the soil just because she'd seen it in person, and now they were as likely to become victims as the people they heard about on the news, and that alone made her tremble.

"I'm not trying to scare you, my dear, I'm trying to save you."

Orange ripped her hands from the sides of her head. "How is working for you going to ensure that I'll be safe?!" she shouted. "That would just make me more of a bullseye, wouldn't it?"

Beatrice pressed her lips together. "Everything will remain confidential, I assure you. No one will know about your position except for you and your pesky friends if they can hold their tongues, and if danger arises, you'll be prepared to handle the situation." Orange still didn't look convinced. "Think about the benefits you'll reap: your earnings will afford a far more lavish living space for you and the others; your town can finally receive some financial aid to battle the effects of the drought. There are many more to be had along the way."

"Earnings" and "town" were the magic words. "How much are you willing to pay me for my service?" Orange trepidly asked.

"Four figures seems fair enough, but a higher amount may be negotiable."

"What exactly do you want me to do?"

"You'll become my assistant and oversee that things go in order in my estate. I have seen your notability for organization, and that is something this place needs more of."

The princess actually paid her a compliment? Now she knew she had to be in an alternate reality. "I know you're not referring to that time I helped your bodyguards pick out air fresheners - that's just common sense."

"A little act can go a long way, my dear."

Orange sat and thought and thought, but she couldn't find the right things to contemplate; only the point of how much she'd be paid registered in her mind. Heck, that was more than she earned from working at her general store!

"It looks like you're reaching a decision," the princess pointed.

"I have, and," Orange began, "I'll do it. I'm at your service."

Beatrice smiled with pleasure.


End file.
